Nov. 26, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
855 
Banker Ponies. 
Some years ago I gave an account of the “Lost 
Colony” — Sir Walter Raleigh's settlers, who, 
abandoned at Roanoke Island, left behind horses, 
and practically all other belongings, not portable 
in canoes, and migrated to the mainland across 
miles of sound, and then made a long “trek” to 
what is now Robeson county, where, as you have 
been told, their 3,500 people live, recognized offi¬ 
cially these twenty-one years by North Carolina 
as the blended descendants of the English and 
the coast Indians. 
This story is of the wild ponies now found 
along portions of the North Carolina coast, and 
'which all the evidence shows are the descendants 
of the “little Barbary horses” which Sir Walter 
Raleigh had procured from Africa, on the Medi¬ 
terranean shore, and declared to be the best 
adapted for travel and 
use by reason of their 
“hardynesse”; in other 
words, their ability to 
get along anywhere. The 
great knight’s judgment 
was good. The Barbary 
horses of to-day in their 
own country can endure 
much, and their descen¬ 
dants, locally known 
along the North Caro¬ 
lina shore as “Banker” 
ponies, are hardy to the 
last degree. There are 
some of these ponies in 
Virginia, and some on 
the outer fringe of 
Maryland, but they went 
along the banks from 
this State as far as they 
could go, and have been 
carried further still by 
owners. 
To the southward they 
have not gone. On cer¬ 
tain stretches of the 
North Carolina Banks 
they are never found. 
No reason for this is given. I happen to know 
that none is seen on Bogue Banks; that is, from 
Fort Macon, which is near Beaufort, southward. 
On those banks there are great numbers of rat¬ 
tlesnakes, and this may be a reason. Not until 
recently have good pictures been made of these 
ponies, but perfect ones have been taken by M. 
B. Gowdy, which illustrate admirably the char¬ 
acter of these ponies and of the methods by 
which they are taken. 
Lands in the coast section are never held in 
common, but in severalty; yet, on the other hand, 
these ponies have been always held in common, 
and the pennings are joint affairs, in which whole 
neighborhoods participate, and in which every¬ 
body has a keen personal interest. There are 
now seven well-known pens. Since the war with 
Spain the word “corral” has come in use, as ap¬ 
plied to such places for holding animals, but it 
is never heard along this coast. The pens are 
built in some cases of drift wood, remnants of 
old wrecks, supplemented by lumber, and there 
are pens which look to be a century old, so dark 
are the timbers. Others are built of logs in rude 
fashion. All have broad entrances with gates 
which can be quickly closed. 
Mr. Gowdy and I concluded to go to what is 
known as the Middle Pen and see the work done 
there. We sailed away from Beaufort long be¬ 
fore daylight, for we had a good many miles’ 
journey ahead of us, the pen being on the banks 
in front of the village of Atlantic on the main¬ 
land. We fared through Core Sound and through 
the straits, where Harker’s Island has set itself 
and made the shortest way a very narrow chan¬ 
nel, and as day broke, saw ahead and astern 
boats with all sorts of rigs, all heading for our 
objective point. As we caught up with some of 
these only an occasional word was said, for these 
coast people are chary of speech when on the 
water. Their language is broad English, and 
this brought out the statement from a very dis¬ 
tinguished educator to me that perhaps the 
purest English spoken in the United States to¬ 
day is along this strange stretch of North Caro¬ 
BANKER PONIES IN THE PEN. 
From a copyrighted photograph by M. B. Gowdy. 
lina shore. It is very broad, the consonants all 
have their value, there not being the usual soft 
Southern elision, and there is really a burr which 
sets itself upon the ear and the memory, too. 
Grown folk and children alike speak in this way, 
and it seems strange even to persons fifty miles 
this side of the coast. 
The full light brought to view a squadron of 
boats, mainly small affairs, and it looked as if 
a regatta was in prospect. Every man was doing 
his best to get all he could out of his own boat. 
In some there were boys, smart sailors, too, who 
made everything count. Presently we came up 
with a boat in which there was a big negro, a 
marked man, for he is the only black man along 
that stretch of coast for many a mile. It seems 
strange in North Carolina, with its 600,000. blacks, 
to speak of a negro as a curiosity, but this giant 
is such to a great many of the bankers and cer¬ 
tainly to the children, for at Atlantic, where 
there was a little stop, and where a mother with 
her two boys had come in to do some trading at 
a store, the youngsters huddled behind their 
mother like chickens under a hen’s wings, fright¬ 
ened by the sight of the first black man they had 
ever seen. But Big Jim is kindness and clever¬ 
ness itself, and he is liked by all those along the 
line who know him. He is an invaluable man 
at the pony pennings, for he is the chief “seizer,” 
and when he gets those great hands of his 
gripped about a pony’s nose, it is hard indeed 
to shake him loose. 
We sailed across from Atlantic to the pen, 
finding there boats anchored everywhere in the 
shallow water, their owners wading ashore. The 
pen was on a marsh on the mainland side of the 
banks and 200 yards from the shore. It was 
built of stout timbers, worn very smooth, not 
only by the ponies themselves, but by people who 
sat on its upper rail to witness the spirited scene. 
Not a woman was present. They never go to 
the pennings, but there were hundreds of men, 
and their costumes were very picturesque, flan¬ 
nel shirts and big flapping hats being seen here 
and there, with a good many life-savers and 
lighthouse men sprinkled 
among the crowd. There 
were visitors from the 
up-country, eager to see 
the sights and to buy 
ponies which might be 
offered for sale. People 
merely stood around and 
talked. Here and there 
were piles of fagots 
with branding irons be¬ 
side them, for the colts 
and unbranded ponies 
would be branded with 
the private mark of 
their owners. We walk¬ 
ed eastward to the rim 
of a low sandhill, and 
there was the ocean, 
looking very misty and 
faint and seeming much 
further away than it 
really was. Presently 
came a faint sound, the 
blowing of a conch 
shell, and then a reply 
came from. another. 
People around the pen 
began to look, for this 
meant that the men who were driving the ponies 
were closing in. Before daylight these drivers 
had begun their task, one party—a few mounted, 
but most of them on foot — starting some ten 
miles or more to the southward, the other start¬ 
ing as far to the northward, pushing everything 
ahead of them from marsh and thicket toward 
the pen. 
As the morning drew on, ponies, which had 
not before shown themselves, began to move 
slowly out upon the broad stretch of marsh, 
some a mile away, and looking very tiny. The 
people about the pen, under no particular orders, 
yet knowing what to do, drew back somewhat 
and formed a sort of V, so as to be of service 
to the drivers. 
After a while ponies began to be numerous, 
and one veteran of many a penning announced 
that it was going to be a very good penning. 
After this things happened quickly. The ponies 
began to bunch and run about, and a number of 
colts, following mares, were seen, while occas¬ 
ionally a stately stallion threw up his head and 
gave a snort. The line of men at the pen formed 
a V, and as the final close-in was made by the 
drivers, the ponies flashed through this forma- 
