Sourial 1

George Sourial
Mr. Grillo
AP American History
Reform in Antebellum American Society
It had finally happened: Andrew Jackson had had enough. He was done, tired and
sick of them. He had done his best to contain his emotions, taking up yoga and pottery to
relieve his stresses but to no avail. He had lost it. John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay
had done it. Their mere existence had messed with Jackson to the point where he decided
they ought be cast away. Cast away unto a small island nearby that of the Massachusetts
whaling community, Marthas Vineyard. This forest-covered island measured only a mile
and a half long and a half a mile wide leaving Jacksons castaways abandoned without
much to survive on. These are their recollections:

Day One:
I, John Quincy Adams know not where Henry Clay and myself are located and
neither of us can recall as to what means we arrived here by. The last that either of us
recalls is having drinks with President Andrew Jackson. We walked the beach of this
landmass were on only to find that were marooned on an island, an island that is
apparently covered in trees but no viable resources, however it seems we have found
some fresh water. Water is the beginning of our chance to survive. But it wont be
enough. We need to find food and shelter else our stay on this island will be short.
Tonight we have decided to sleep on the highest part of the beach to ensure no change in
tide will affect us.

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Day Two:
We woke this morning to the sound of ships in the distance. They were whaling
ships but they were too far away to see or hear us. We decided we ought to spend today
making sure wed be able to survive at least two weeks on the island. With the
opportunity to last longer if needed. We had seen smaller animals such as rabbits and
chipmunks on the island the day before and decided to set traps. We had also set our
camp in the dark and this morning found the bushes next to us to be full of berries. We
snacked throughout the day on the berries while setting as many traps we could for the
small animals. We also found fallen trees today on the island. We could not drag them
back to the beach but thanked our lucky stripes that we both still had our knives. While
not very big, our knives were large enough to cut branches off the trees and begin to
whittle away at them making spokes for our traps. We retired for the night telling stories
of our childhoods to one another.
Day Three:
This morning we found our traps to have all caught us a new friend to join us at
dinner with our berries. My oh my, I havent had rabbit like that since I was a small boy.
Henry and I decided that we could now survive on the island for as long as necessary and
should now get to work on getting found and rescued. We started by climbing trees and
finding the branches most covered with leaves and dragging them to the camp. We
skinned the branches and started piles of firewood and leaves. By the time we had
finished and met what we thought would be a reasonable amount it was already well into
the evening and if the past two days had taught us anything it was that we would not see

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another boat for the rest of the day. We decided to feast on our formerly fury friends.
After we decided that tomorrow would begin our attempt at being rescued.
Day Four:
This morning we woke up before the sun rose and started our massive fire made
of branches then covering them in the leaves to create a smokier fire. Ships went past
multiple times until eventually a very small fishing boat came nearer and nearer
eventually sending its lifeboat out to us and bringing us back to the ship. I was not
recognized and Henry and I gave fake names as a layer of safety. The ship took us back to
Falmouth where we made our way to my cousin William Williams home. He and my
family were in awe of my presence. It appears that the newspapers have reported Henry
and I as dead. Obviously not true. The story appears to be that we were out fishing a
whole week ago and our ship never returned. We were presumed dead. Apparently we
were out for longer than we thought. We decided that if Clay and the nation thought we
were dead then we ought use that to our advantage and began our plans for revenge on
Andrew Jackson.
Day Twelve:
Clay and I arrived back in our nations capital today. Not a soul has recognized us
so far. We have checked into a local hotel separately as Benjamin Howard and George
Tuttle. We are scheduled for a tour of the White House tomorrow. My former home. Such
a shame that this man thought he could kill me quietly while living in a home I know
better than anyone else. I lived four years of my childhood and four years of my adult life
in that house. Tomorrow Jackson will know of all I have learned in those eight years.
Day Thirteen:

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We arrived at our tour ahead of time and were with a group of forty people. Today
was Sunday, meaning that there was less security on patrol of the building. Clay and
myself walked at the very back of the group and waited for our chance to sneak away. We
finally got it at the most opportune of places. While passing the pantry we took a narrow
turn to enter the red room. We took our shot to hide in the Family Dining Room. Thanks
to my many curious years occurring in the home of youth I knew there was a secret safe
room within the walls of the Family Dining Room. Clay and I hid there for the remainder
of the day. When all was quiet we quietly snuck to his room. His wife Rachel had died
before the inauguration, and all their children had already grown and were off at boarding
schools and University. All making our next task increasingly easy. He noticed not as we
opened the door to his room and snuck in. According to his clock it was nearly two in the
morning when Clay revealed his needle full of Sodium thiopental. Clay shot it into
Jacksons carotid artery while I prepared to cover Jacksons mouth with a rag incase he
awoke during the proceedings. He didnt. He was dead in seconds. Seconds in which we
made our escape through the kitchen garbage shoot and walked out of the White House
property.
Day Fourteen:
All in all yesterday was a success; we substituted the attempted murder of
ourselves with the murder of our attempted killer. Nothing seems to be more like justice
to Clay and I. The news quickly spread that Jackson had died in his sleep the night
before. He was given a full autopsy and while the coroner likely noticed the needle mark
on his neck the public need not worry about any slight discrepancies that would lead to a
scare. The only two problems remaining were that Clay and I were still thought to be

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dead and that he knew our secret. I decided I would find a way to kill a bird with two
stones.
Day Twenty:
Today Clay and I sailed out on a boat that matched the description of the one that
was claimed to have sunk and claimed our lives. Clay and I decided we would sink it for
real and swim back. Our story would be that the ship broke down in a storm, that we
cooked and ate our catch while drinking cleaned water. Then our ship caught fire and
sank while we were cooking all the time working on repairing the engine. Sending us
swimming back the last few miles. However, Clay could not live knowing what hed
known. Once we had begun sinking the ship I shot him in the back of the head. Not the
cleanest way it could have gone but I was sinking my heavy clothing alongside the ship
anyways so the fact it was covered in blood was of no worry to me. I worried not about
people wondering about him. It was a well-known fact he could not swim. I swam to the
shore not knowing a thing that occurred in the last month and life went back into place
with one less worry on my mind. That damned-fool Jackson had messed with the wrong
man.