Memories of Charlton County - by Gibson and Mays Back to Table of Contents 28. PORTE TRACY'S FERRY (Pp 52-53) My friend Porte Tracy operated a ferry at
Traders Hill before there were bridges over the St. Marys River. Using the ferry far getting the horse and buggy from one side to the other was about the only way you could cross rivers when I was young. Porte's ferry was about twenty-four feet long and about ten feet wide and was a platform with ramps that slanted down toward the large center section that held the cargo. The sides weren't very high, maybe twelve or fourteen inches, just enough to keep the wheels of a
vehicle from rolling off the ferry. It would hold a horse and buggy or a four wheel wagon, and the trip from one side of the river to the other cost a quarter. The ferry was attached to a steel cable that was anchored to a tree on each aide of the river. After Porte put his customer and the wagon or buggy on the ferry, he pulled hand over hand on the cable and by his own strength, got the ferry from one side to the other. Emory Dean and Porte were good
friends and Porte let Emory keep some of his mules at his house when he was working on the Florida side. One day Emory pulled his wagon onto the ferry and then put a pair of mules on it. As they were going across the river Emory kept the mules still by holding their bridles, but one began cutting up. It started backing up and Emory was doing his best to hold onto him. The mule just backed right off the end of the ferry and splashed into the river. They finally got to the other landing without
letting the mule drown for Emory had hold of the reins and held the mule's head above water till they got across. I enjoyed swapping things with Porte. We were always trading. I remember half of a swap we made once. I can't remember what he gave me but I gave him a quarter of a fresh-killed beef for it. One of the best swaps I made with him was when I exchanged a hunting dog for an unreasonably long cow whip. I really needed that whip for I was working at that time
gathering up cows for Georgia-Florida Investment Co. and getting them to the dipping vat every two weeks to get rid of the wood ticks. Porte was a good bit older than I was and I had known him nearly all my life. He had lived in Waycross for a time and had worked at Papa's dairy there when I was just a small child. He had been the Postmaster at Traders Hill for a long time and had a little post office building not far from the ferry. It was just a tiny
thing; not much larger than a chicken house, no longer than ten feet. When I worked as a range rider gathering up cows, the post office had already been discontinued and it wasn't being used so I never went inside. Port was a resident of Florida, living on the other side of the river but was a Georgia postmaster. When the river got exceedingly high after long periods of rain, it would overflow its banks and just cover the yard around Porte's house. Porte was a good sport and
all of us liked a good joke. This is one that was told on him: It was just after an extended rain and water was everywhere. Porte could paddle his boat from Traders Hill, cross the river, go right up to his house and step from the boat to the front porch. A friend was going down the river and saw Porte out in his yard in his boat with his fishing pole. He was using the pole to punch straight down to the ground. His friend asked him what he was doing and he said "I'm looking for my well.
I need some water!" | 
