After Mason left Cave-in-Rock other outlaws still continued to use the cavern as a temporary stopping place or headquarters. An outlaw’s stay at any place is of necessity short. Mason, in 1797, had lived there longer than any other. Those who followed him were more or less migratory. Residents in the vicinity were in no way implicated in the various acts that made the Cave so notoriously dangerous, until the mysterious Ford’s Ferry band began its robberies. Since 1834, when that organization ceased its operations, the Cave has never been identified with outlawry.
To what extent James Ford, the owner of Ford’s Ferry—a crossing place on the Ohio two and one-half miles above the Cave—was connected with this organization was not revealed in his day nor since, and it is not at all likely that it will ever be determined. He is more frequently discussed in tradition, and his life is the subject of a greater variety of opinions than that of any other man connected with the tragedies of the Cave-in-Rock country. According to one version, “Jim Ford was as black as some have painted him,” and, according to another, his connection with the mysterious band had the effect of preventing bad men from committing more crimes than they would have if his influence had not acted as a restraint.
A careful study of the few written records and the many varied oral traditions pertaining to Ford, indicates that when he reached the prime of life conditions
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 had undergone many changes. Outlaws were no longer in a position to carry on their depredations with the freedom that attended the earlier days. Population had increased, and with that increase came a better reign of law. The line between law-abiding and law-breaking citizens was rapidly widening. For about ten years, ending in 1833, Ford apparently stood between the two, and kept in close touch with both. By mingling with the upright citizens he held in some measure the respect of the community, and by acting as one of the leaders of the highwaymen he reaped a share of their booty. In serving the two opposing classes he faced, and finally met, the fate common to such men.
His education and appearance, and his public activities, gained for him the confidence of the community and the standing of a trustworthy man, which he held until toward the close of his life. Before he died many of his fellow-citizens began regarding him with more or less suspicion, and he soon became a man of mystery. After his death his career was extensively discussed throughout the lower Ohio valley. Our account is confined principally to court records and oral traditions. These old records, as far as known, have not been cited heretofore by anyone attempting to tell the story of James Ford.
Tradition has it that James Ford was born some time during the latter part of the Revolution. His father, it is said, was a Revolutionary soldier and moved with his son to western Kentucky about 1803. Thus he appeared in the Cave-in-Rock country about half a dozen years after the Masons and Little Harpe had gone south, but was living in the neighborhood when “Jim Wilson” and some of the other outlaws were holding forth at the Cave. His home was a half-mile southwest
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 of what is now the village of Tolu, Crittenden County, Kentucky. It was a mile from the Ohio and the head of the notorious Hurricane Island, about eight miles below Ford’s Ferry and five miles below Cave-in-Rock. Ford owned a number of good farms in what was then northern Livingston, now Crittenden County. So well was he known along the lower Ohio that Samuel Cuming’s Western Navigator, published in 1822, designates the river landing near his home as “Major Ford’s.” The old court records preserved at Smithland show that he was a justice of the peace in 1815 and held the office a number of times thereafter, and that practically every suggestion made before the county court “on motion of James Ford” was carried. He frequently served as appraiser and administrator of estates. Through these and other acts of trust he gained the prestige of a desirable citizen. The improvement of roads was encouraged by him, especially those leading to Ford’s Ferry.
One of the most interesting chapters of the mystery surrounding Ford’s Ferry may be found in a book of personal reminiscences and local traditions of Cave-in-Rock and its vicinity disguised as historical fiction and called Chronicles of a Kentucky Settlement. Its author, William Courtney Watts, who possessed an excellent education, was a very successful man of international business experience, born at Smithland, Kentucky, near Cave-in-Rock. Much of his information came directly from his father and other pioneer settlers.
Among the men who figure in the romance, and whom Watts personally knew, was Dr. Charles H. Webb, of Livingston County, of which Smithland is the seat. Dr. Webb married Cassandra Ford, the daughter of James Ford. He related the story of his life to Watts and thus contributed a chapter to history
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 that stands alone. There exists in more or less abundance printed data relative to some of the methods employed by the bands of robbers at Cave-in-Rock to entice boats to land at the Cave and get possession of victims. All these, however, are, as already observed, stories based on statements made, not by men who spoke from actual observation, but by persons who had heard others relate another man’s experience. In Dr. Webb we actually touch hands with a well-known and highly respected citizen who was lured to the Cave by some of the tricks suggested—tricks regarding which few lived to tell the tale and of which nobody else left any direct authoritative account.
Dr. Charles H. Webb and his brother John, both young men, left South Carolina in 1822 for Philadelphia and shortly thereafter set out for the West in search of fortune, with St. Louis as their destination. At Cave-in-Rock, on their way down the Ohio, they met their great adventure and were separated as the narrative records. Dr. Webb, having lost all, settled at Salem. There he subsequently met and knew Watts. The two became fast friends when Watts, much the younger of the two, had grown up. It was from Dr. Webb, in the flower of his middle age, that Watts had this story:
“My brother and I descended the Ohio River from Pittsburgh to Louisville in a flatboat, and after remaining a few days in Louisville we again started on another flatboat, intending to go on it as far as the mouth of the Ohio River or near there.... The boat, a ‘broadhorn,’ was in charge of one Jonathan Lumley, who owned a large proportion of the cargo which consisted of corn, provisions, and whiskey. With Mr. Lumley were three other stout young men as hands, making,
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 with my brother and myself, who had agreed to work our way for food and passage, six persons on board.
“Day after day as we floated along, the better I got acquainted with my companions and the more I found that, under a rough exterior, they were warm-hearted, generous, and confiding fellows, equally ready for a jig or a knock-down, for a shooting match or a drinking bout, for a song or a sermon.
“I was playing on my flute as our boat was nearing Cave-in-Rock, and when within full view of the high rocky bluff, at the base of which is the entrance of the Cave, we observed a woman on the top of the bluff hailing us by waving a white cloth, whereupon our captain, as we called Mr. Lumley, ordered us to pull in close to shore, within easy speaking distance, so as to learn what was wanted.
“Presently a man came from the entrance of the Cave, and called out: ‘Hey, Cap! have you enny bacon or whiskey on board?’
“‘I-yie!’ shouted back our captain.
“Won’t yer land? We’re short on rations here, an’ want ter buy right smart!’ said the man.
“‘Goin’ to the lower Mississippi!’ answered our captain, ‘and don’t want to break bulk so high up.’
“‘But, Cap, we’ud be mi’ty obleeged ef you’d lan’. An’ we’ve got a woman here and a boy who want passage down ter the mouth er Cumberlan’. They’ve bin waitin’ a long time, an’ll pay passage.’
“‘All right then,’ replied the captain, ‘I’ll land; but let them come aboard at once.’
“And land we did some two hundred yards below the Cave, when the captain and three others—my brother being one of them—went ashore and walked up to the entrance. After waiting for more than an hour, and
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 none of our men returning, I asked my remaining companion to go up to the Cave and see what was detaining them. Another hour passed away; the sun had gone down, and night, with clouds, was rapidly coming on.
“I began to feel uneasy, and to add to my uneasiness, a large dog which we had on board began howling most dismally. Presently, by the dim twilight, I saw three men approaching the boat from the Cave. At first I thought them a part of our crew, but I was soon undeceived, for they came on board, and with pistols drawn, demanded my surrender. Resistance was useless; my arms were soon bound behind my back, and I was told that if I made any row my brains would be blown out. I asked about my friends but was only told that they were ‘all right,’ that the captain had ‘sold the boat and cargo,’ and that what little information they had given was ‘enough’ for me ‘to know.’
“I was then blindfolded, and when my money had been taken from me, I was assisted—I should say lifted—into a skiff, into which two of the three men, so I thought, entered. I begged to know what had become of my brother, and told them that he and I were passengers on the boat and no part of the crew proper. I did this hoping that if they knew we were passengers and had no direct interest in the boat and cargo they would think us less likely to return to the Cave and molest them. But the only answer I got was that the ‘fewer questions’ I asked the better it would be for me, ‘by a d—— sight.’
“The skiff was then rowed away—in what direction I could not tell, but in some five minutes there was a pause in the rowing, and soon a slight jar as of two skiffs coming together, followed by a conversation in
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 low tones, the purport of which I could not catch. Very soon, however, one of the men approached me and whispered in my ear. There seemed to be a remnant of mercy in the intonations of his words, rather than in the words themselves. He said: ‘We’re goin’ ter vi’late orders a little, an’ turn yer loose here in the middle er the river. An’ the furder yer float away frum here ’fore yer make enny noise, the better for yer by a d—— sight. Yer’d better lay low an’ keep dark till mornin’ comes.’ The speaker then slackened the cords that bound my arms, after which he again whispered: ‘Yer ken work ’em loose when we’re gone, say in ’bout an hour, but not sooner, er yer may get inter trouble. An’ don’t yer never come back here to ax enny questions, or yer’ll fare worse, an’ do nobody enny good.’
“The man then left me seated in the stern of the skiff, and I could tell from the motion and the rattling of a chain that a second boat was being pulled along side it, into which the man stepped, leaving me alone. I strained my ears to catch the slightest sound, but I could neither hear the click of oars nor the dip of a paddle; the latter, however, might have been used so noiselessly as to be unheard. I was therefore in doubt. I thought possibly the other boat might be floating close to me and that I was being watched. This brought to my mind the man’s caution not to try to free my arms for an hour. I therefore, remained quiet for about that length of time. No sound reached me except the moaning of the night winds among the forest trees that lined each shore, the occasional barking of wolves, and the weird cry of night-fowls—particularly the blood-curdling hooting of great owls....
“After a long and painful effort I succeeded in releasing my arms and freeing my eyes from the bandage.
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 Looking around I found the heavens overcast: the night was so intensely dark that I could see only a dim outline of the shore. I discovered there were neither oars nor paddle in the skiff, but I was floating some two or three miles an hour, and it might be many hours before I would pass any habitation. I therefore made up my mind to lie down in the skiff, try to get some sleep and await the coming of morn. But the distant growling thunder was creeping nearer and nearer; flash after flash lit up the heavens, followed by almost deafening discharges that rolled, crashed, and reverberated along the river and among the forests, which moaned and groaned under the pressure of the rising wind. The waves in the river were momentarily increasing, and were dashing my little skiff about in a way that was alarming....
“I knew if the downpour continued for many minutes my skiff would fill and sink. There was but one way to bail it out—to use one of my thick leather shoes as a scoop. I worked manfully while the rain lasted, which, fortunately, was not for more than an hour.
“The long night finally passed, but the heavens were still overcast. I peered along both banks—looked, hoping to see smoke curling above some cabin chimney—but there was no sign of human habitation. Occasionally I raised my voice to its highest pitch—gave a loud halloo—but no answering voice was returned. However, about an hour later, I saw an island ahead of me; it was evidently inhabited, for notwithstanding the leaden aspect of the skies, I could see smoke ascending from among the trees. I used my hands as paddles as vigorously as I could so as to drift against the head of the island, and in this I succeeded. Having secured my boat, I soon found the cabin, and was kindly received
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 by a Mr. Prior and his wife who gave me a good breakfast. I told them of my misfortune, and they expressed much sympathy for me. Mr. Prior, who seemed to be an honest and intelligent man, told me that he was one of the earliest settlers in those parts. He said he had often heard of the depredations of the Wilson gang about the Cave and that I was lucky to have escaped with my life. He advised me to stop at Smithland, at the mouth of the Cumberland River, where I might obtain assistance and directions as to what was best for me to do. Mr. Prior then made me a paddle out of a clapboard, and bidding him and his kind wife goodbye I returned to my skiff, pushed off, and that evening arrived in Smithland.”
At Smithland young Webb was directed to Salem, “which then contained a population, white and black, of about two hundred and fifty.” There, in turn, he was advised by Judge Dixon Given to consult Colonel Arthur Love relative to the best method of gaining information regarding his brother who had been captured at the Cave. Colonel Love, a highly esteemed citizen, lived a few miles from the home of James Ford, who was suspected by many of being a leader of the Cave-in-Rock band. No crime, however, had ever been traced to Ford “with sufficient clearness to cause his arrest and trial.” On his way to Colonel Love’s farm Webb fell from his horse and sprained his ankle, and it so happened that Cassandra Ford, daughter of James Ford, found the helpless young man lying in the road. She took him to her home, and he soon discovered he was in the house of the very man he dreaded most. But his fears rapidly vanished, for his rescuer had become very much attached to him and he to her. He was shown the flute of which he had been robbed near
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 the Cave. The mother and daughter revealed to him the fact that they, like many of their neighbors, felt somewhat suspicious that James Ford was, in some way, connected with the notorious crowd at the Cave. Ford, who was away from home much of his time, did not return until about a week after the crippled man was admitted. Then Webb saw “the masterful, self-willed, dreaded, and almost outlawed man.” He gave a description of him as he appeared at that time:
“He was about six feet in height, and of powerful build, a perfect Hercules in point of strength; but he has now grown too corpulent to undergo much fatigue. His head is large and well shaped; his sandy brown hair, now thin, is turning gray, for he must be fully fifty years old; his eyes, of a steel-gray color, are brilliant and his glance quick and penetrating; his nose rather short and thick; his upper lip remarkably long, his mouth large, and his lips full and sensuous. He has a broad, firm, double chin, and his voice is deep and sonorous. His complexion is very florid, and he converses fluently. On the whole, when in repose, he gives one the idea of a good natured, rather than a surly, bulldog; but, if aroused, I should say he would be a lion tamer.”
When Webb’s foot was sufficiently healed to permit his leaving the Ford home he took his flute and crutches and returned to Salem. Shortly thereafter he made the first of his many calls on Miss Ford. In the meantime, learning that his brother had been allowed to depart from the Cave unhurt, he wrote letters to various places and finally located him. Later he “went to Fort Massac on a flatboat and from there walked to St. Louis,” where he found his brother established in business. The two spent several months together in the city and, according
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 to the story as related in Chronicles, it was during his absence from Kentucky that Ford, the “almost outlawed man,” passed beyond the reach of law.
It was at Ford’s Ferry that many emigrants going to the Illinois country crossed the Ohio. In Ford’s day the ferry at Shawneetown and another at Golconda also were thriving and the three were, in a sense, rivals.
A river crossing with the reputation of having the best roads leading to and from it was usually given the preference. Ford, realizing this, placed sign-boards at a number of road crossings, and cards in some of the taverns, advertising the highway to his ferry. What was known as the Ford’s Ferry Road extended, in Kentucky, some eight miles south of the ferry and, in Illinois, about twelve miles north of it. That part of it in Kentucky running north from Pickering Hill to the ferry, a distance of four miles, was well maintained by the county through Ford’s influence. The road leading from his ferry into Illinois was an equally important one, but its condition depended solely upon his interest and efforts in the matter. He attempted to persuade the local authorities in Illinois to change the old Low Water Road running through the bottoms to Pott’s Hill, a distance of twelve miles, to one over higher ground. Failing in this effort, he, at his own expense, opened up a new road ever since known as Ford’s Ferry High Water Road.
Thus with about twenty miles of comparatively good road through a densely wooded country and with a first class ferry, and by proper advertising, he succeeded, as one man expressed it, “in having things come his way.” Many people, it is true, were molested at the ferry and along the highway leading to and from it; but such mi............