The Tree-Dweller, the Great Fleet, and the Battle that Saved America: 5 Impactful Tales from Old Pocahontas County
1. Introduction: The Whispers of the Greenbrier
In the mid-18th century, the jagged rim of the Alleghenies marked the edge of the known world. Beyond it lay the "Western Wilderness," a realm of deep, imposing silence where rivers flowed toward the sunset and the shadows of the ancient forest hid both promise and peril. It was a landscape that demanded total cooperation for survival, yet it fostered a fierce, almost obsessive independence. In 1749, two men—Jacob Marlin and Stephen Sewall—stepped into this mystery, eventually reaching the mouth of Knapp’s Creek. They were pioneers in every sense, yet they are remembered today for a peculiar psychological fracture: despite being the only two white men for a hundred miles, they reached a point where they simply stopped speaking to one another. Their story, and many others like it, were nearly swallowed by the mountains until G.D. McNeill, a man whose own life bridged the local and the global, committed them to paper in 1958, capturing the fading echoes of a rugged frontier.
2. Tale I: The Peculiar Exile of Stephen Sewall
Jacob Marlin and Stephen Sewall were the first to attempt a permanent settlement on the Greenbrier, building a cabin in the fertile bottomland that now bears Marlin’s name. However, the vastness of the wilderness was not enough to buffer the friction of human ideology. Following a bitter dispute regarding religious matters, the companionship they had traveled so far to secure turned into a silent, mutual exile.
The resolution was as strange as the silence itself. Rather than abandoning the settlement, Sewall moved a short distance across a small run and took up residence inside a hollow sycamore tree. There is a haunting irony in this: a man who braved the Alleghenies for freedom choosing the cramped isolation of a tree trunk over a shared roof, all for the sake of an argument. Sewall eventually wandered further into the unknown, passing through the Little Levels and the Great Levels—thousands of acres of "splendid land" he refused to claim—only to meet a tragic end.
"Upon leaving his cave and going westward, he passed through Little Levels, where there were thousands of acres of splendid land. After passing through the Great Levels of Greenbrier—still no land taken, he continued westward, and was killed by Indians near Rainelle."
3. From Buckeye to the Great Pacific: G.D. McNeill’s Global Odyssey
The man who preserved these tales, George Douglas McNeill, possessed a biography as expansive as the frontier itself. Born in 1877 in a farmhouse in Buckeye, McNeill began his career in the modest confines of a one-room schoolhouse. Yet, he was possessed by a "compelling urge to travel" that eventually led him from the classroom to the deck of the U.S.S. Glacier.
Between 1907 and 1909, McNeill served as a yeoman in the U.S. Navy during President Theodore Roosevelt’s "peace cruise." As part of the "Big Fleet," he circumnavigated the globe to project American power during a time of tension with Japan. His eloquence was such that he was chosen by the enlisted men to present a silver loving cup and deliver a speech to the philanthropist Helen Miller Gould. When he finally returned to Pocahontas County, he did so not just as a teacher, but eventually as a school principal and a storyteller. His global perspective informed his "tales," allowing him to enchant his students in Marlinton by connecting their local history to the broader world, showing them that the spirit of Buckeye was not so different from the spirit of the great Pacific.
4. Tale II: The Hunter's "Accident" that Changed World History
History often turns on the smallest of hinges. In 1774, during the prelude to the Battle of Point Pleasant, the survival of the American frontier—and perhaps the success of the coming Revolution—rested on the stomachs of two hungry men. As Andrew Lewis’s army lay sleeping without pickets, his men were starving; the cattle they had driven across the mountains were "skinny and tough" from weeks of browsing on forest scrub.
Desperate for better meat, hunters Mooney and Hughey set out in quest of venison. Three miles above the camp, they stumbled directly into the massive army of Chief Cornstalk, which was preparing a dawn surprise attack. Hughey was killed, but Mooney escaped, racing back to raise the alarm. This "insignificant accident" prevented the total destruction of the Southern Division. As McNeill masterfully synthesizes, the stakes could not have been higher:
"Had the army of Lewis been destroyed, the Revolution would certainly have been delayed, and it might never have occurred."
5. Tale III: Prehistoric Industry: The Flint Quarry of Mill Point
High on a narrow backbone ridge near the home of Mrs. Tom Beard lies a site of ancient industrial labor. Claimed to be the only flint quarry east of the Mississippi River, this archaeological treasure reveals the sophisticated methodology of the land's original inhabitants. The ridge is scarred with grave-like depressions where the limestone, heavy with "plugs of flint the size of lemons," sits just beneath the surface.
To extract and shape the stone, the Indians employed a seasonal strategy of heating and cooling. They utilized an "outdoor fireplace"—a flat stone propped over an ember pit—to heat the flint nodules. According to the research of G.D. McNeill and experts like Mr. King, the artisans allowed water and snow to collect in the depressions to soften the flint, or used twigs to drop water onto the heated stones, causing them to chip into arrowheads with precision. Today, the ridge is a quiet pasture, but the ground remains carpeted with a permanent record of industry: thousands of flint chips that have outlasted the civilizations that made them.
6. Tale IV: The Impossible Escape of Moses Moore
Moses Moore was perhaps the most resilient of the Greenbrier pioneers. Captured near Cass in 1765 while trapping in a "Western Wilderness" that had seen no permanent settlement, he was taken to an Indian village in Ohio. His survival was won through a display of sheer physical audacity during the "gauntlet." Rather than enduring the blows of the villagers, Moore charged through with such bravery—knocking several squaws aside—that he was proclaimed a great warrior and invited to live in a chief's wigwam.
Moore then began a masterfully "bewildered" ruse. He would go out to hunt and intentionally stay away overnight, claiming upon his return that he had become lost. He practiced this for months, conditioning his captors to his absences while he systematically stockpiled ammunition. Whenever he hid a bullet or a load of powder in his secret cache, he simply claimed he had "missed a running deer." When his stockpile was sufficient, he utilized his routine one last time to vanish forever, navigating the trail back to the Greenbrier valley.
"Moore must have been trapping here as early as 1765, this before any permanent settlement had been made in Pocahontas."
7. Conclusion: The Plowing Must Continue
The character of Old Pocahontas is perhaps best defined by "Swago Bill" Ewing. During the Drinnen Raid, Ewing was in his fields with a new iron plow when a rescue party from Fort Keckley came through. He did not hesitate; he left his plow in the furrow, seized his flintlock, and joined the fight. Yet, he was a man of the soil as much as a man of the rifle. Fearing for his tools, he later returned to the field, narrowly escaping a second ambush by hiding behind a tree near Rush Run.
In those moments of crisis, families like the Drinnens, Bridgers, Buckleys, and Moores all fled to the refuge of Fort Keckley, bound by a shared duty that transcended their isolated cabins. What can we learn from a generation that lived in "pole cabins" yet possessed a global sense of duty and an unyielding drive for liberty? They understood a fundamental truth that modern readers would do well to remember: the plowing of our own fields must continue, but we must always be ready to leave the furrow behind when the community—and the future of the country—calls.



