On the second day of November, Jackson learned that a considerable force of the enemy was gathered at Tallushatchee, an Indian town about ten miles from the Ten Islands. He had no sooner received this information than he ordered Coffee with about nine hundred men to attack the post.
Coffee marched on the moment, taking with him a company of friendly Indians, mostly Cherokees, under Richard Brown. To prevent errors the Indians in the expedition wore white feathers and deer-tails on their heads.
The expedition crossed the river a few miles above the Ten Islands, and advanced during the night, arriving in the immediate neighborhood of the town about daybreak on the 3d of November. The purpose was not merely to defeat but to destroy the Indian force, and therefore, instead of dashing at once into the town, Coffee divided his force in half, sending Colonel Allcorn with the cavalry to the right, while he himself, in company with Colonel Cannon, marched to the left around the place, keeping at a sufficient distance to avoid alarming the Indians.
When the heads of the two columns met, the town was entirely surrounded. Notwithstanding the caution with which this movement was executed, the Indians discovered the presence of the enemy when the troops were half a mile distant. They beat their drums and yelled in savage fashion, but remained on the defensive, awaiting the attack.
About sunrise, every thing being in readiness, General Coffee sent two companies forward into the town, without breaking his circular alignment, instructing the officers in command of them to make an assault and bring on the action. The manœuvre was altogether successful. As soon as the two companies made their attack, the Indians, confident that this was the whole of the assaulting column, rushed out of their houses and other hiding-places; and charged their assailants with great vigor. The companies of whites thereupon began falling back and the Creeks pursued them hotly. When the main line was reached, it delivered a volley into the midst of the advancing savages, and immediately charged them, driving them back in confusion to the shelter of their houses. Here the Creeks fought with the utmost desperation, refusing quarter, obstinately resisting when resistance was manifestly in vain, and choosing to die where they stood, rather than yield even to Coffee's overwhelming numbers.
General Coffee said in his report of the affair:
"The enemy retreated, firing, until they got around and in their buildings, where they made all the resistance that an overpowered soldier could do. They fought as long as one existed; but their destruction was very soon completed. Our men rushed up to the doors of the houses, and in a few minutes killed the last warrior of them. The enemy fought with savage fury, and met death with all its horrors, without shrinking or complaining; not one asked to be spared, but [they] fought as long as they could stand or sit. In consequence of their flying to their houses and mixing with their families, our men, in killing the males, without intention killed and wounded a few of the squaws and children, which was regretted by every officer and soldier of the detachment, but which could not be avoided."
Coffee counted one hundred and eighty-six dead bodies of Indians, and, as many of them fell in the grass and high weeds, where their bodies were not easily found, he expressed the opinion in his report that the number of killed did not fall short of two hundred, while his own loss was five men killed and forty-one wounded, most of the wounds being slight and none of them mortal. For the first time in the history of Indian warfare, the fighting force of the savages in this battle was utterly destroyed, not a single warrior escaping alive.
There were eighty-four prisoners taken, all of them being women and children. Not only General Coffee, but his officers and men also, would gladly have ended the fight as soon as victory was theirs, sparing the warriors who had survived the first onset, and they constantly offered quarter not only to bodies of men who were fighting together, but to single individuals who were manifestly at their mercy, and to wounded warriors; but their offers of mercy were indignantly rejected in every case, and they therefore had no choice but to convert the battle into a massacre more complete than that which had occurred at Fort Mims, except that the women and children were spared; but this time the butchery was forced upon the victors against their will, while at Fort Mims the triumphant savages had willingly indulged in indiscriminate slaughter.
Coffee at once took up his return march and rejoined Jackson, who sent a brief despatch reporting the affair to Governor Blount, praising Coffee and his men in the strongest terms, and ending with that plaintive plea for food for his army, which was now constantly on his lips. "If we had a sufficient supply of provisions," he wrote, "we should in a very short time accomplish the object of the expedition."
The most encouraging thing about this affair was the good conduct of the men. They manifested so little of the spirit of raw and undisciplined troops; they fought with so much coolness and steadiness, and went through the battle showing so few signs of that excitement which commonly impairs the efficiency of inexperienced soldiers, that their commander felt a confidence in them which justified him in attempting more than he would otherwise have dared in the circumstances.
Mr. Parton, in his Life of Andrew Jackson, preserves a story which grew out of this battle, and which so strongly illustrates the softer side of a stern soldier's character, that we may be pardoned for breaking the narrative to copy it here.
"On the bloody field of Tallushatchee was found a slain mother still embracing her living infant. The child was brought into camp with the other prisoners, and Jackson, anxious to save it, endeavored to induce some of the Indian women to give it nourishment. 'No,' said they, 'all his relatives are dead; kill him too.' This reply appealed to the heart of the general. He caused the child to be taken to his own hut, where among the few remaining stores was found a little brown sugar. This, mingled with water, served to keep the child alive until it could be sent to Huntsville, where it was nursed at Jackson's expense until the end of the campaign, and then taken to the Hermitage. Mrs. Jackson received it cordially, and the boy grew up in the family, treated by the general and his kind wife as a son and a favorite. Lincoyer was the name given him by the general. He grew to be a finely formed and robust youth, and received the education usually given to the planters' sons in the neighborhood. Yet it appears he remained an Indian to the last, delighting to roam the fields and woods, and decorate his hair and clothes with gay feathers, and given to strong yearnings for his native wilds."
The boy did not live to reach manhood, however. In his seventeenth year he fell a victim to pulmonary consumption, and when he died his benefactor mourned him as bitterly as if he had been indeed his son.
Where was General Cocke with the troops from East Tennessee all this time? It will be remembered that he was to muster twenty-five hundred men in his half of the state, while Jackson gathered a like number in the west, and marching southward the two were to form a junction in the Creek country. Meantime General Cocke had undertaken to procure in East Tennessee supplies for the whole force. The supplies, as we know, had not come, and Jackson had marched without them. Now he expected General Cocke daily, with his force and his supplies; but they came not, and Jackson was greatly disappointed.
The fact was that General Cocke had been delayed by precisely the same lack of breadstuffs that had embarrassed General Jackson. He had collected supplies, indeed, and ordered them forward by way of the river, but for lack of water they had not come, and at last, like Jackson, he began his march without them. He started south from Knoxville on the 13th of October, and after a considerable delay on the route, abandoned all hope of receiving the supplies, and depended thereafter upon such aid as the friendly Cherokees could give him in the way of furnishing provisions. General White had marched separately with his brigade, and when he joined General Cocke his men were in a starving condition.
While marching in a column separate from Jackson's, General Cocke was an independent commander. If he should join Jackson, whose commission was older than his own, the East Tennessee commander must become subordinate to the authority of Jackson. The fact that he did not form the contemplated union of forces, but acted separately, and the additional fact that his separate action led to a blunder which added greatly to the horrors of the war, caused Jackson great annoyance, and subjected General Cocke to the severest criticism. He was accused of an undue and culpable jealousy of Jackson, of self-seeking, and of perverse disobedience of orders. To all of this we shall come presently. The matter is mentioned now merely because it is necessary to know this much about it in order that we may properly understand the events to be immediately narrated.
As soon as Coffee's command returned from the Tallushatchee expedition, General Jackson resumed his march over a mountainous country toward the Ten Islands. Upon arriving at that point on the Coosa River, he began the construction of a fort as a centre of operations, and a defensive post at which his supplies—whenever he should happen to have any thing of that kind—could be protected by a comparatively small force. He adopted the usual method of fortifying against Indian assaults—inclosing a large space within a line of strong timber pickets, and building block-houses, storehouses, and other needed structures within. Here he was disposed to await the arrival of General Cocke, hoping that that officer would bring provisions of some sort with him, as the force at Fort Strother—that was the name given to the works at the Ten Islands—was now almost destitute of food and forage.
When Cocke was within three days' march of Fort Strother, his advance-guard, about one thousand strong, under command of General White, was within a very short distance, and General White sent forward a courier from Turkey Town reporting his arrival at that point, and asking for orders.
About this time there came into Jackson's camp a messenger, who brought news of a very important nature. He came from a little fort thirty miles away, at the Indian town of Talladega, on the spot where the modern town of Talladega stands. In that fort a handful of friendly Indians, about one hundred and fifty in number, had gathered to escape butchery at the hands of their hostile brethren. Here they were closely besieged by an Indian force one thousand strong, who, contrary to their usual practice, made no assault, but sought to starve out the little garrison. They surrounded the fort and maintained an unbroken siege line, confident that the plight and even the existence of the beleaguered fort were unknown to the whites, and confident, therefore, that no relief could be sent to them. They knew, too, that the supply of water, as well as of food, in the fort was very scant, and hence they had only to await the sure operation of starvation and thirst to do their work for them.
The messenger who came to Jackson to pray for the deliverance of the little band from their pitiable situation is described by some writers as an Indian, by others as a chief, and by still another he is said to have been a Scotchman who had lived for many years among the Indians as one of themselves. The last-named writer has evidently confused this case with another. Whoever and whatever he was, this man had escaped from the fort by a characteristic Indian stratagem. He had covered himself with a swine's skin, and wandered about like a hog in search of roots. In this way he managed to work his way at night through the lines of the besiegers, and when once beyond them he travelled as rapidly as possible toward Jackson's camp, and reported the state of affairs.
He arrived on the 7th of November, and Jackson at once began casting about for ways and means. He scarcely dared to march with his scanty supplies of food, and he scarcely dared to leave his post with an insufficient force to defend it; but he must rescue that band of friendly Indians at all hazards and at any cost. Their hard situation appealed to his pity; the cruelty of their foes appealed to the stronger stuff in his composition, arousing his anger and his disposition to wreak a righteous vengeance. There were reasons of polity, too, to move him to activity in their behalf. If they should be left to their fate, the discouragement of the friendly Indians everywhere would be great, and might be calamitous.
Jackson quickly considered all of these things and formed his resolution. General White was at Turkey Town at the head of about a thousand men. Jackson resolved to order him to march immediately upon Fort Strother, and to hold the place while the main army should be absent. There was great danger in leaving the post unguarded even for a brief time, but the occasion was so pressing that the resolute commander determined to take the risk, hoping that White would arrive in time to prevent disaster at the fort.
Having sent his order to White, he began his preparations for an immediate march with the whole effective force at the post.
Between midnight and one o'clock the next morning, November 8th, the column began its march, two thousand strong, eight hundred being mounted men. The task of fording the Coosa occupied the hours until the dawn of day, the horses of the cavalrymen being used for the transportation of the infantry across the stream.
A march of twenty-four miles consumed the day, and not long before dark General Jackson halted his men within six miles of the enemy, in order that they might rest. It was his purpose to resume the march after midnight, and attack the enemy early in the morning.
Thus far all had gone well, but here something like calamity overtook the commander in the shape of extremely bad news. A courier arrived bringing a despatch from General White, in which that officer informed Jackson that he could not obey the order given him to advance and protect Fort Strother, because of positive orders from his immediate superior, General Cocke, commanding him to return and rejoin the East Tennessee division of the army.
The state of facts which now confronted Jackson was most appalling. He was a long day's march from his fortified camp, with an impending battle on his hands; while his camp, to which alone he could retire when his present task should be done, was lying open and helpless, at the mercy of any band of Indians which might choose to attack it! Worse still, Jackson knew that the food supplies at the camp were exhausted, and as General White was not to come up with the provisions which he had promised to bring with him, Jackson saw that after fighting the Indians in his front he should be obliged to march his exhausted and hungry army back to a post where there was nothing for them to eat. His was a terrible dilemma, neither horn of which offered him hope. He expressed his anger with General Cocke and General White in forcible terms; but that did him no good, and the offending officers were not present to profit by the rebuke.
The Indians in his front probably had some provisions, enough at least for a meal, and Jackson determined to secure these at any rate, and at the same time to accomplish the purpose of his expedition.
Putting his army in motion very early in the morning he approached the Talladega town. When within half a mile of the foe he formed his line of battle, dividing the cavalry and placing half of it upon each wing. The advance was made slowly in the centre, so that the wings might gradually encircle the enemy, a movement much more difficult here than it had been at Tallushatchee, because of the greater numbers of the enemy, and because of their distribution over a wider area. For these reasons the plan of battle was less perfectly carried out on this occasion than on the former one, but it proved effective notwithstanding the difficulties which prevented its perfect execution.
At the proper moment a small body of troops was thrown forward from the centre to bring on the action. This force made a spirited attack, firing several successive volleys into the ranks of the surprised Indians, before a determined resistance was made to their attack. Then the Creeks charged upon them in force, and in accordance with the instructions they had received, the officers commanding the advance withdrew toward the main line, falling back in good order and at a moderate speed. We cannot do better than let General Jackson tell the rest of the story. In his report of the affair he said:
"The enemy pursued, and the front line was now ordered to advance and meet him; but, owing to some misunderstanding, a few companies of militia, who composed part of it, commenced a retreat. At this moment a corps of cavalry, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Dyer, which I had kept as a reserve, was ordered to dismount and fill up the vacancy occasioned by the retreat. This order was executed with a great deal of promptitude and effect. The militia seeing this, speedily rallied; and the fire became general along the front line, and on that part of the wings which was contiguous. The enemy, unable to stand it, began to retreat, but were met at every turn and repulsed in every direction. The right wing chased them, with a most destructive fire, to the mountains, a distance of about three miles, and, had I not been compelled, by thefaux pasof the militia in the outset of the battle, to dismount my reserve, I believe not a man of them would have escaped. The victory, however, was very decisive: two hundred and ninety of the enemy were left dead, and there can be no doubt but many more were killed who were not found. Wherever they ran they left behind traces of blood, and it is believed that very few will return to their villages in as sound a condition as they left them.
"In the engagement we lost fifteen killed and eighty-five wounded; two of them have since died. All the officers acted with the utmost bravery, and so did all the privates, except that part of the militia who retreated at the commencement of the battle; and they hastened to atone for their error. Taking the whole together, they have realized the high expectations I had formed of them, and have fairly entitled themselves to the gratitude of their country."
Jackson's loss in wounded included General Pillow, Colonel Lauderdale, Major Boyd, and Lieutenant Barton; but of these only Lieutenant Barton died of his wounds. The friendly Indians rescued numbered one hundred and sixty men, with their women and children.
In writing that two hundred and ninety of the enemy were found dead, General Jackson dealt in round numbers. General Coffee, who seemed always to have an exacting curiosity in such matters, said in a letter which was written soon after the battle: "We have counted two hundred and ninety-nine Indians dead on the ground, and it is believed that many have not been found that were killed dead; but the battle-ground was so very large we had not time to hunt them up. It is believed that very few got clear without a wound."
General Coffee said also in this letter, which is preserved in the archives of the Tennessee Historical Society, that "the force of the enemy was a little upwards of one thousand warriors, picked men, sent forward to destroy our army." By dint of adding to the numbers of Indians known to have been killed in the two battles thus far fought as many more as he believed to have been killed, and assuming that the wounded equalled the killed in numbers, General Coffee arrived at the conclusion that the battles of Tallushatchee and Talladega had left the fighting force of the Creeks "a thousand men weaker" than when the campaign began. The calculation was scarcely a fair one, however; assumptions respecting dead men not found are necessarily unsafe, and as there were no wounded men at all left alive at Tallushatchee, the calculation respecting wounded men was of course founded upon an erroneous assumption, to say nothing of the fact that the only men wounded and not killed at Talladega were so slightly wounded that they succeeded in getting away, and hence could scarcely be accounted lost to the Creeks.
It is easy to pardon the enthusiastic general his slight overestimate of the damage inflicted upon the enemy, whom he was so earnestly anxious to defeat. The damage was great, certainly, and the success thus far attained had been secured at small cost in the matter of the lives of the white troops.
The object for which Jackson had marched from Fort Strother to Talladega was fully accomplished. The hostile Creeks in that quarter had been routed with heavy loss, and the little band of beleaguered friendly Indians were released from their dangerous and trying situation; but Jackson's army was hungry, and there was a prospect that actual starvation would presently overtake it. The little food that was found at Talladega was distributed among the men, sufficing to satisfy their immediate needs.
The pressing necessity of the hour now was to return with all possible haste to Fort Strother, which must not be left in its defenceless state a moment longer than was absolutely necessary; but an instantaneous beginning of the return march was wholly out of the question. The men had begun their toilsome journey at midnight between the 7th and 8th of November, had marched all day on the 8th, and, after a few hours' rest, had begun to march again a little after midnight, to go into battle early on the morning of the 9th. Now that the battle was done, they were utterly worn out, and must rest. Accordingly, the army went into camp for the night, after they had buried their dead comrades. The next day the return march was begun, and on the 11th of November the weary army arrived at their encampment.
The fort was unharmed, but it was destitute of provisions, and for a time it was with great difficulty that Jackson prevented a mutiny among the troops, whose only food was the meagre supply gleaned from the surrounding wilderness.
It is necessary now to explain the circumstances which left Fort Strother without the garrison under General White, which General Jackson had provided for its defence during his absence, and to show to what consequences this failure of the East Tennessee commander to co-operate with General Jackson presently led. The writers upon these historical events differ very widely in their judgment of the case, and most of them severely censure General Cocke, attributing his conduct to an unworthy jealousy. His rank was the same as that of General Jackson; but, as was said in a former chapter, Jackson's commission was the older one, and hence if Cocke had joined his "ranking officer," Jackson would have been in command of the whole force. It was alleged at the time and afterward that both the East Tennessee troops and their commander were jealous of Jackson and his army, and envious of that army's success. To this unworthy motive General Cocke's conduct has generally been attributed. Mr. Pickett, in his History of Alabama, gives an account of the matter, which is substantially the same as those given by Drake in his Book of the Indians, and by most other writers.
In that account he says, without doubt or qualification, that the want of concert between the two divisions of the army grew "out of a jealousy of the former [the East Tennessee division], and a strong desire to share some of the glory which the latter had already acquired in the few battles they had fought."
Mr. Parton, in his Life of Andrew Jackson, gives a different version of the affair, attributing General Cocke's course to his earnestness in the cause, and his knowledge of certain facts which were unknown to General Jackson. To that we shall come presently; but while General Cocke's statement, upon which Mr. Parton founds his opinion, is certainly entitled to consideration, it must not be forgotten that General Cocke was under at least implied orders to join Jackson—orders which he was bound as a soldier to obey, whatever his judgment may have dictated; that whatever he may have known, there were two or three things which he did not know; that one of these things unknown to him—namely, the departure of Jackson from Fort Strother—made his obedience to orders very necessary to the successful execution of Jackson's plans; and that his want of knowledge of another fact led to the perpetration of a fearful outrage—the driving of Indians who were disposed to become peaceful into fierce hostility, and the increase of the ferocity of the war. It was General Cocke's business to obey his orders, expressed or necessarily implied. For reasons which he thought good, he neglected to do so, and great evil resulted.
On the march southward Cocke's army had destroyed two or three deserted Indian villages, but had had no encounter with the enemy. When General Cocke arrived within a few days' march of Fort Strother he detached General White and sent him to Turkey Town. Thence White marched to Tallushatchee, intending to attack the place, but he arrived there after Coffee had destroyed the force gathered at that point, although his visit was on the same day. As he was marching to join Jackson, it does not very clearly appear why General White did not follow Coffee to the camp of the main body. He returned to Turkey Town instead, and from that point reported to Jackson, as we have seen, just as the army was about to march upon Talladega. He was at once ordered to advance and replace Jackson's force at the fort, but before he could execute the order he received the instructions from General Cocke already referred to, directing him to turn back and join the East Tennessee division at the mouth of the Chattooga River. Believing that in a case of conflicting orders it was his duty to obey that which came from his immediate superior, General White obeyed Cocke rather than Jackson.
Cocke had determined upon a separate operation against the Hillabees, and sending White to one of the Hillabee towns, that officer surprised and destroyed it on the 18th of November, killing sixty of the Hillabees and taking two hundred and fifty prisoners, mostly women and children. Pickett says, "The Hillabees, it is asserted, made not the slightest resistance. At all events, not a drop of Tennessee blood was spilt."
The unfortunate feature of this affair was that to the Indians it wore the appearance of the basest and cruelest treachery. These Hillabees had been great sufferers at Jackson's hands in the battle of Talladega, and becoming convinced by the result of that battle that resistance was useless, they determined to surrender and make peace. They sent Robert Grayson, an old Scotchman who had lived among them for many years, to Jackson's camp to sue for peace, proposing to lay down their arms, and to comply with whatever terms Jackson might impose upon them. As the object of the war was not to kill the Creeks in wantonness, but to secure peace and good conduct at their hands, Jackson properly regarded the proposed surrender of the Hillabee tribe as the richest fruit of the campaign. Accordingly, he sent Grayson back to them with a lecture, and an acceptance of their capitulation. He said to them: "Upon those who are disposed to become friendly, I neither wish nor intend to make war; but they must afford evidences of the sincerity of their professions. The prisoners and property they have taken from us and the friendly Creeks must be restored. The instigators of the war and the murderers of our citizens must be surrendered."
While Jackson was yet rejoicing in the belief that his hard-fought battle at Talladega and the hardships endured upon that expedition had accomplished so much more than the mere defeat of the enemy there, his work was utterly undone by the ill-timed and unfortunate expedition of White against the Hillabees. These people knew nothing of the divided councils of the Tennessee army, and when White came down upon one of their towns, while their messenger was still absent upon his errand of peace, they naturally supposed that their assailants were Jackson's men, and that he had sent them as his relentless messengers to answer the Hillabee prayer for peace with the merciless stroke of the sword. Convinced that Jackson was implacable, and that no hope remained to them, the Hillabees fled from all their towns and joined the hostile forces, wherever bodies of them could be found. Drake says, in the Book of the Indians:
"The Indians thought they had been attacked by General Jackson's army, and that therefore they were now to expect nothing but extermination; and this was thought to be the reason why they fought with such desperation afterwards. And truly they had reason for their fears; they knew none but Jackson, and supposed now that nothing short of their total destruction would satisfy him, as their conduct exemplified on every occasion. They knew they had asked peace on any terms, and their immediate answer was the sword and bayonet."
In acting as he did, without first consulting with General Jackson and learning both the exact situation of affairs and the nature of his superior officer's purposes, General Cocke did wrong in a military sense. Of this there seems to be no room whatever for doubt or question, and as his wrong-doing led to disastrous results, it was altogether natural that both General Jackson and the historians should severely censure the offending officer, as they did; General Jackson being violently exasperated, as well he might be, when he learned the full results of the blunder.
In saying as we do, that General Cocke was clearly culpable for acting as he did, we do not necessarily imply that his course was dictated by the jealousy and envy to which it has been attributed, or indeed by unworthy motives of any kind. His motives may, perhaps, have been perfectly unselfish; his conduct the result merely of bad judgment, or of inaccurate notions of military duty; but to establish these facts is only to palliate, not to excuse his offence. It is unjust, however, in any discussion of these matters, to neglect the defence which General Cocke made of his conduct.
That defence was made in the autumn of the year 1852, in a letter published in theNational Intelligencer, and was prompted by the publication of certain criticisms upon General Cocke's conduct. In the letter he says:
"About the 1st of October I rendezvoused my troops at Knoxville, and they mustered into service; and on the twelfth day after, I took up the line of march. I encamped with my command on the banks of the Coosa, which was the dividing line between the Cherokee and Creek Indians, where I was compelled to halt for want of provisions for my own command; and at no time after I left Knoxville had I more than five days' rations for my army. At this point I waited for supplies from the contractor, but owing to the low water they did not arrive, and I was compelled to procure supplies from the Cherokees as best I could. General White joined me with his brigade in a starving condition upon the second day after my arrival on the Coosa."
Mr. Parton offers the following comment upon this part of the letter and upon the situation:
"It thus appears that while General Jackson was anxiously looking for supplies from General Cocke, General Cocke himself was as destitute as General Jackson. A junction of the two armies would have had the sole effect of doubling Jackson's embarrassments, inasmuch as he would have had five thousand men to feed in the wilderness instead of twenty-five hundred, and would have required twenty wagon-loads of provisions daily instead of ten. General Cocke knew this; knew that Jackson's anxiety for a junction had arisen from an expectation that the East Tennesseeans would bring supplies with them; did not know that Jackson's dash at Talladega had left Fort Strother unprotected—did not know any thing about the Hillabees' suing for peace, and Jackson's favorable reply to them."
This, we say, is at most only a palliation of the offence. General Cocke did not know, as Mr. Parton says, that Jackson's anxiety for a union of the two armies was due to his expectation that the East Tennesseeans would bring supplies with them, because that was not the fact. He did expect them to bring provisions, but his anxiety for a junction was not altogether on that account. He wanted White's men for a garrison for Fort Strother, and hence General Cocke only believed that which Mr. Parton assumes that he knew. Again, if the junction had been made, and the doubling of the number of men had embarrassed Jackson, it would have been easy for him to separate the forces again. Moreover, after the Hillabee expedition was ended, General Cocke was ready and willing to join Jackson, while the scarcity of provisions remained; if his reason for not forming the junction was good in the one case, it was good also in the other. Indeed, General Cocke has himself contradicted the plea which Mr. Parton makes in his behalf. While General White was still absent on the Hillabee expedition, General Cocke wrote a letter to Jackson, in which he said:
"I entertain the opinion that to make the present campaign as successful as it ought to be, it is essential that the whole force from Tennessee should act in concert. I have despatched all my mounted men, whose horses were fit for duty, on the Hillabee towns, to destroy them. I expect their return in a few days. I send the bearer to you for the sake of intelligence as to your intended operations, and for the sake of assuring you that I will most heartily agree to any plan that will be productive of the most good."
From the fact that he thus arranged to put himself within the range of Jackson's authority as soon as his Hillabee campaign should be ended, the inference is inevitable that General Cocke neglected to make the contemplated earlier junction in order that he might carry out this little scheme of his own. Inasmuch as a court-martial, composed of officers who, General Cocke says, were his bitterest enemies and Jackson's closest friends, fully acquitted the accused officer of guilt, it is only fair to the memory of a brave and conscientious soldier to believe that he acted for the good of the cause; that his anxiety to deal a blow at the Hillabees was prompted by a desire to serve the ends of the campaign, not by unworthy jealousy of Jackson; but beyond this it does not appear to be possible to go. We may properly acquit General Cocke of petty envy, and of conscious insubordination, but it is impossible not to see that his course was ill-judged as well as calamitous in its results, and it is impossible also to blame Jackson for his displeasure with his subordinate. The most that General Cocke establishes in his defence, which is elaborate, is that he acted in accordance with the unanimous opinion of his field officers; that he conscientiously believed that his course was the best one to be pursued in the circumstances, and that it was dictated solely by his earnest desire to serve the cause. The most that is proved against him appears to be, that he acted with smaller regard to strict military rules than an officer of his rank should have done. He was guilty of a blunder, not of a crime.
With the affairs already described, Jackson's campaign came to a halt by reason of his want of supplies, and on account of mutinous conduct upon the part of his men. For many weeks the Tennessee army did nothing, but remained at Fort Strother, while the war went on in other parts of the field. For the present, therefore, we leave Jackson, to follow the course of affairs elsewhere.
The autumn having brought with it the necessity of gathering what remained of the crops in that part of the country which lies on the Alabama and Tombigbee rivers, the settlers there did what they could to clear the country of prowling bands of Indians. They sent out bodies of armed men in different directions, and under protection of such forces as they could muster, began gathering the ripened corn.
The danger of famine, if the corn should be allowed to perish in the fields, seems also to have aroused General Flournoy from his dream of strict adherence to law and treaty in his treatment of the Creeks. His predecessor, General Floyd, had refused, it will be remembered, to permit General Claiborne to invade the Creek Nation early in the war, when that officer confidently believed that he could speedily conquer a peace by pursuing that course. Flournoy now receded from the position then taken, so far at least as to order Claiborne to advance with his army and protect the citizens while they should gather their crops. He still ordered no resolute invasion of the Creek territory, for the purpose of transferring the seat of war to the soil of the enemy, and putting an end to the strife; but he ordered Claiborne to drive the Indians from the frontier, and even to follow them so far as the towns which lay near the border, instructing him to "kill, burn, and destroy all their negroes, horses, cattle, and other property, that cannot conveniently be brought to the depots."
General Flournoy, like General Floyd, appears to have been somewhat too highly civilized for the business in which he was engaged. Knowing, as he did, that Claiborne was fighting savages who had violated every usage and principle of civilized warfare, who were prowling about in the white settlements murdering every white man, woman, and child whom they could find, and who had committed the most horrible wholesale butchery at Fort Mims; knowing all this, and knowing too that an army from Tennessee was already invading the Creek country from the north, General Flournoy appears to have given Claiborne this half-hearted and closely-limited permission to fight the Creeks upon their own terms and their own soil with great reluctance and with apologetic misgivings. He set forth his conviction that even the little which he was now permitting Claiborne to do toward making the war real on the white side was not in accordance with the usages of civilized nations at war; but excused himself for his departure from those usages by citing the conduct of the enemy in justification of it. A stronger man than General Flournoy would have seen that the Creeks had turned complete savages, that they had begun a savage warfare for the extermination of the whites, and that such a war could be brought to an end only by the destruction of the white people whom he was set to protect, or by the prompt, resolute, and complete subjugation of the Creeks. Seeing this, such an officer would have seen that the Creeks could be conquered only by the invasion of their territory with fire and sword, and with no respect whatever for those rights which were theirs in peace, but which had been forfeited in the war. It seems incredible that General Flournoy, in such circumstances and with such an enemy to contend with, should have muddled his head and embarrassed his army with nice questions of the rights, duties, and usages of civilized warfare. This was so clearly not a civilized, but an especially savage war, that his hesitation, and the misgivings upon which that hesitation was founded, are wholly inexplicable.
Claiborne was quick to use the small liberty given him to fight the Creeks, while the settlers, from their positions in the stockade forts, were already making frequent expeditions against vulnerable points.
Early in October, a body of twenty-five men, under Colonel William McGrew, went in pursuit of an Indian force, and attacked them resolutely on a little stream called Barshi Creek. The Indians were in considerable force, and despite the courage and determination of the whites the Creeks got the best of the affair, killing Colonel McGrew and three of his men, and putting the rest of the force to flight.
Much better success attended another expedition, which was undertaken about this time, and which resulted in one of the most remarkable incidents of the war, a sort of naval battle on a very small scale, but one that was contested as heroically as the battle of the Nile itself. This was Captain Sam Dale's celebrated canoe fight, of which a writer has said:
"There has seldom occurred in border warfare a more romantic incident.... History has almost overlooked it, as too minute in its details for her stately philosophy. Yet for singularity of event, novelty of position, boldness of design, and effective personal fortitude and prowess, it is unsurpassed, if equalled, by any thing in backwoods chronicles, however replete these may be with the adventures of pioneers, the sufferings of settlers, and the achievements of that class who seem almost to have combined the life and manners of the freebooter with the better virtues of social man."
When Colonel McGrew's men returned after their unsuccessful conflict with the Creeks, the news they brought greatly incensed the people of Fort Madison, whose friends had fallen in that unlucky action. Believing that the main body of the Creeks was now south of the Alabama River, and fearing that they would destroy the buildings and the crops there, Captain Sam Dale, who had now nearly recovered from his severe wound received at the battle of Burnt Corn, organized an expedition for the purpose of clearing the lower country, if possible, of the hostile bands. The force which volunteered for this service consisted of seventy-two men. Thirty of them constituted Captain Richard Jones's company of Mississippi yauger men. The remainder were men of the neighborhood, who volunteered for the expedition.
Among these volunteers were three whose participation in the canoe fight makes it necessary to introduce them particularly to the reader. One of them was a negro, whose name, Cæsar, together with his good and gallant conduct on this occasion, are all that history has preserved with respect to him. Another was young Jeremiah Austill, the youth who carried despatches, as already related, between Colonel Carson and General Claiborne, when that service was most dangerous. The third was James Smith. We may best tell what is known of young Smith in the words of Mr. A. B. Meek, whose volume of sketches, from which we shall quote here, is unfortunately out of print. Mr. Meek writes thus:
"In Dale's command was a private soldier who already had a high reputation as an expert, daring and powerful Indian fighter. Born in Georgia in 1787, this scion of the universal Smith family was now a very stout, finely-proportioned man, five feet eight inches high, weighing one hundred and sixty pounds. Residing near Fort Madison, he took refuge there at the outbreak of the war. His fearless and adventurous character may be indicated by an incident. One day he determined to visit his farm, about eight miles distant, to see what injury the Indians had done. Proceeding cautiously, he came to a house in which he heard a noise, and, stealing up to the door, he found two Indians engaged in bundling up tools and other articles to carry them off. Levelling his gun at them he made them come out of the house and march before him toward the fort. In a thicket of woods the Indians suddenly separated, one on each hand, and ran. Smith fired at one of them and killed him, and, dropping his rifle, pursued the other, and, catching him, knocked him down with a light-wood[3]knot and beat out his brains.... This, and similar deeds of daring and prowess, gave to James Smith a high position among his frontier friends and neighbors."
Mr. Meek writes more fully of young Austill. He describes him as a youth nineteen years of age, dark, tall, sinewy, and full of youthful daring. The stories of his courageous performances were many, and during the war he won the special commendation of his superiors on many occasions for his bravery and his devotion to duty.
Dale marched from Fort Madison on the 11th of November, with Tandy Walker, a noted frontiersman, for his guide. Marching to the south-east, the column crossed the Alabama River at a point about thirty miles above Mims's ferry, and about twenty miles below the site of the present town of Claiborne.
Dale was thoroughly well acquainted with the habits of the Indians, among whom indeed he had lived frequently for long periods. He was therefore keenly alive to the necessity of unremitting vigilance, and, determined to suffer no surprise, he refused to permit any of his men to sleep during the night after his passage to the south-east bank of the river. During the next day he advanced up the river very cautiously, sending Austill, with six men, in two canoes which he had found, while the rest of the force marched through the woods on the bank.
At a place called Peggy Bailey's bluff the first signs of the presence of Indians were discovered. Following the trail well in advance of his men, Dale discovered ten Indians at breakfast. The first intimation these Indians had of the presence of white men on that side of the river came to them in the shape of a bullet from Dale's rifle, which killed one of the party, and caused the rest of them to abandon their provision pack, and flee precipitately through the woods.
Securing the abandoned provisions, Dale marched on a mile or two, but finding no further traces of Indians, he determined to recross the river and scour the country on the other side.
The work of crossing was necessarily slow. Only two canoes were to be had, and the river was nearly a fourth of a mile wide, but little by little the force was paddled across, until only about a dozen of the men remained with Dale on the eastern bank. These men were at breakfast when suddenly they were startled by a volley from the rifles of an Indian force. This force, as was afterward learned, was the advance party of about three hundred warriors. Dale and his handful of men protected themselves as well as they could among the trees, and returned the fire. Had the savages known the weakness of their force, they might easily have destroyed the little party by making a determined dash; but Dale and his men were so well concealed among the trees and in the bushes, that their enemies, in ignorance of their numbers, did not dare charge them. The nature of the ground served also to favor Dale. The river here had what is called a double bank—that is to say, there were two plateaus, one above the other, each breaking rather suddenly at its edge. These banks, covered with dense undergrowth, served the purpose of rude natural breastworks.
The first assault was made by about twenty-five or thirty of the savages, who were speedily joined by others, and Dale quickly saw that his position was an extremely critical one. The Indians must soon discover from the infrequency of the fire from the bank that the force there was small, and it was certain that they would make a charge as soon as this should be discovered—a charge which the dozen men there could not possibly withstand. Dale's first thought was of escape across the river to the main body of his little company; but this was clearly out of the question. There was but one canoe on his side of the river, so that to cross at all the little company on the bank must separate, half of it going over at one trip and half at another. If half of them should embark, the Indians, seeing the canoe in the river with its cargo of fugitives would know at once that the band on the bank was unable to resist them, and hence would destroy the men left behind before the canoe could return to bring them away.
Dale called to his men on the other side of the river to recross and render him assistance, but they seemed to be for the time fairly panic-stricken, so that none of them moved to answer the call. After a time their courage appeared to return, and eight of them manned a canoe and began the passage. When the man who led this detachment saw the great superiority of the Indian force, he became panic-stricken again and ordered a retreat, so that even this little attempt to reinforce Dale's tremendously overmatched company failed to bring relief.
Meantime a new danger appeared, coming this time upon the rear. A large canoe holding eleven Indian warriors shot out from the bank a little way up the river and paddled down to Dale's position. Here an attempt was made to land. Should this be accomplished, the fight must end at once in the destruction of the whole detachment on the river bank. To ward off this danger Dale was compelled to fight both ways—to the rear and to the front. He himself, with all of his men but three, kept up not a brisk, but a very destructive, fire in front, picking their men and shooting with all the precision of skilled marksmen; while Smith, Austill, and one other man devoted their attention to the warriors in the canoe, preventing them from approaching the shore.
Being kept thus at a distance, two of the most daring of the Indians in the canoe resolved to risk an attempt to swim ashore. Leaping overboard only their heads were exposed, of course; but Smith succeeded in sending a bullet into even that small target, killing one of the swimmers instantly. The other reached the bank, where he was met by Austill, who unluckily tripped and fell into the water, and before he could regain his footing the savage had escaped.
His escape brought matters to a head. Dale knew that this Indian had seen how small his force was, and that he would report its weakness, thereby making an immediate charge certain. He therefore resolved upon a desperate attempt. He called to his men, declaring his purpose to man the little canoe that remained with him, and attack the Indian canoe party. For this perilous service he asked who would volunteer. Smith, Austill, and the negro man Cæsar at once offered themselves; and with this little force Dale speedily put his plan into execution. Cæsar took the stern of the canoe as steersman, and the three white men grasped their paddles.
The Indians had fired all their ammunition away, else it would have gone hard with Dale when his own and his comrades' guns failed to fire as they did, because the powder in their pans had become wet. When this fact was discovered the two canoes were near each other, and Dale had no thought of flinching from the hand-to-hand conflict which must ensue between himself and his three companions on the one hand, and the nine remaining Indians on the other. He ordered Cæsar to bring the canoe alongside the enemy's boat, and to hold it firmly there. As this was done the Indians leaped to their feet, with their war-clubs and knives, ready for the combat. When the boats touched, Dale instantly leaped into that of his enemy, for the double purpose of crowding the enemy close together and giving his own companions abundant room in which to swing their clubbed guns. It was a mere question of brute strength between men determined to club each other to death. Austill was knocked down with a war-club once, but recovered himself. Dale advanced in the boat, knocking over one Indian after another with his rapid blows. A few minutes sufficed to bring the action to a close.
It is said that the last of the Indians was a young warrior with whom Dale had lived and hunted as a friend before the outbreak of the war. This young Indian and his former friend now confronted each other in the boat. Dale recognized the man with whom he had sat at the camp-fire and passed long days in the hunt; he hesitated, and was about to lower his raised weapon when the young savage, calling him by the name he had borne among the Indians, which meant "Big Sam," cried, "Sam Thlucco, you are a man, I am another—now for it!" He spoke in the Muscogee tongue, with which Dale was familiar, and as he spoke he attempted to grapple with Dale, but the active white man was too quick of movement for him. Stepping back suddenly, he brained his Indian antagonist with a single blow, and the canoe-fight was ended. The nine Indians were corpses, and Dale had not lost a single man, although Austill was severely wounded in the head.
There was perilous work yet to do, however. The brave men in the boat had no thought of abandoning their friends on the bank. Their own guns were broken, and they were under a severe fire from the savages on shore, but in spite of this they cleared the large canoe by throwing the dead Indians overboard, and, with the two boats, paddled back to the bank under a galling fire, and brought off the remainder of the party in safety. If they had not conquered, they had at least baffled the Indians, inflicting considerable loss upon them without suffering any loss in their turn. That night the expedition returned to Fort Madison.
Dale was so typical a frontiersman, so perfect a model of the daring and wily warrior of the border, that as long as he lived he was a man about whom the interest of curiosity hung. A writer who knew him well wrote of him thus:
"In person General Dale was tall, erect, raw-boned, and muscular. In many respects, physical and moral, he resembled his antagonists of the woods. He had the square forehead, the high cheek-bones, the compressed lips, and in fact the physiognomy of an Indian, relieved, however, by a firm, benevolent, Saxon eye. Like the red man, too, his foot fell lightly upon the ground and turned neither to the right nor left. He was habitually taciturn; his face grave; he spoke slowly and in low tones, and he seldom laughed. I observed of him what I have often noted as peculiar to border men of high attributes—he entertained the strongest attachment for the Indians, extolled their courage, their love of country, and many of their domestic qualities; and I have often seen the wretched remnant of the Choctaws camped around his plantation and subsisting on his crops. In peace they felt for him the strongest veneration; he had been the friend both of Tecumseh and Weatherford; and in war the name of 'Big Sam' fell on the ear of the Seminole like that of Marius on the hordes of the Cimbri."[4]
When the call was made by General Claiborne upon Tennessee for assistance, a similarly earnest appeal was sent to Georgia, and the response from that State was equally prompt. The troops raised there were under command of General Floyd, who had been superseded in the command of the Department of the South-west by General Flournoy some months earlier. General Floyd was an energetic soldier, and he quickly found work to do.
It will be remembered that as soon as Red Eagle learned that he would not be permitted to attack and burn Mobile he turned his attention to the country north and east of the Creek Nation, and sent two bodies of his warriors to harass the borders, one force threatening Tennessee and the other seeking to find some vulnerable point on the Georgia frontier. Jackson's advance with an overwhelming force and his vigorous blows at Tallushatchee and Talladega compelled the Creeks to abandon their designs upon Tennessee and stand upon the defensive. They saw the full significance of his advance, and knew that he had come not merely to garrison forts and protect settlers, but to carry the war to the heart of the Creek Nation, and to throttle the Creek power in its stronghold. This was what Claiborne wanted to do by a resolute movement from the south, and there can be little doubt that if he could have had permission to do so he would have saved the Tensaw and Tombigbee settlements from the worst of their sufferings, by making the Creeks the hunted rather than the hunters, precisely as Jackson saved the people of Tennessee by an aggressive policy. The other column, which threatened Georgia, was met in like manner by General Floyd, and with like results.
Floyd's army consisted of nine hundred and fifty militiamen and four hundred friendly Indians, part of them being Cowetas under command of Major McIntosh, one of the half-breeds whom High Head Jim had planned to kill as a preparation for the war, and the rest Tookabatchas under Mad Dragon's Son. Floyd was better equipped than Jackson had been in his first battles, having some small pieces of artillery with him.
Having learned that a large force of the Creeks was at High Head Jim's town, Autosse, on the south-east side of the Tallapoosa River, about twenty miles above the point at which that stream unites with the Coosa, General Floyd marched against them in the latter part of November. McAfee, who is usually a very careful historian, gives the 28th of September as the date, but this is clearly wrong. Crossing the Ockmulgee, Flint, and Coosa rivers under the guidance of a Jewish trader named Abram Mordecai, Floyd arrived in the neighborhood of Autosse early in the morning on the 29th of November.
His plan of battle was precisely the same as that which Coffee had adopted at Tallushatchee, and Jackson at Talladega—that is to say, he planned to surround the town and destroy the fighting force within; but in this case the scheme miscarried. In the first place, McIntosh and Mad Dragon's Son were ordered to cross the river and cut off retreat to the opposite shore, and they failed to do what was required of them. Whether this was due to the unforeseen difficulties of crossing, as the Indians alleged; or to the reluctance of the Indians to swim the river on a cold, frosty morning, as some historians say; or to a failure of their courage, as was charged at the time—there are now no means of determining, and it is not important. It is enough to know that they did not cross the river as ordered, and hence when the attack was made the bank of the stream opposite the town was unguarded.
This was not the only way, however, in which the original plan of attack was prevented. The real position and strength of the Indian force had been misapprehended, and when, early in the action, this was discovered, General Floyd was obliged to alter his disposition of troops accordingly. The advance was made as soon as there was sufficient light, on the morning of the 29th of November, with Booth's battalion on the right, Watson's on the left. The flanks were guarded by riflemen, and Thomas with his artillery accompanied Booth's battalion. Booth was instructed to march until he could rest the head of his column upon the little creek at the mouth of which the town stood, while Watson was to stretch his column around to the left in a curve, resting its left flank upon the river just below the town. If this could have been done as intended, and the friendly Indians had occupied the opposite side of the river, the encircling of the place would have been complete; but besides the failure of the Indians another difficulty stood in the way. Instead of one town there were two, the second lying about a quarter of a mile further down the river, immediately in rear of the position to which Watson had been ordered.
To avoid the danger of an attack in the rear of his left flank, which might have resulted disastrously, General Floyd sent Lieutenant Hendon with Merriweather's riflemen, three companies of infantry and two of dragoons to attack the lower town, while he threw the remainder of the army, now reinforced by the friendly Indians under Mad Dragon's Son and McIntosh, against the larger upper town.
The fighting began about sunrise, and speedily became extremely severe. The prophets had enchanted the place, making it sacred ground, and they had assured the warriors that any white force which should attack them would be utterly exterminated. In this belief the savages resisted the attack with terrible determination, contesting every inch of the ground which they believed to be sacred.
Soon after the battle began, the artillery—an arm which was particularly dreaded by the Creeks with something of superstitious horror—was brought forward and unlimbered. Its rapid discharges soon turned the tide of battle, which until now had not gone against the Indians. When the Indians began to waver before the cannon-shot, Major Freeman with his squadron of cavalry charged and broke their lines. They were closely pressed by the infantry, while the friendly Indians who had now crossed the creek cut off retreat up the river, leaving the broken and flying Creeks no road of escape except across the river. At nine o'clock both towns were in flames, and there was no army in Floyd's front. He was victor in the action, and his success in attacking a sacred stronghold was certain to work great demoralization among the superstitious Creeks; but prudence dictated a retreat nevertheless. The country round about was populous with Indians, and the force which fought at Autosse although broken was not destroyed. It was certain that if the army should remain in the neighborhood it would be constantly harassed, and perhaps beaten by the superior force which the Creeks could speedily muster.
Besides all this, Floyd had only a scanty supply of provisions, and his base of supplies was sixty miles away, on the Chattahoochie River. He determined, therefore, to begin his return march as soon as he could bury his dead and arrange for the care of his wounded, of whom he was himself one.
The return march was perhaps hastened by the determination and spirit of the Indians, who, notwithstanding their defeat, attacked Floyd's rear within a mile of their burned town on the day of the battle. The attack was made with spirit, but the numbers of the Indians were not sufficient to enable them to maintain it long.
In this battle of Autosse Floyd lost eleven white men killed and fifty-four wounded, besides some losses among his friendly Indians. Coffee not being there to count the dead Creeks, the exact number of the slain warriors of the enemy was not ascertained, but it was estimated at about two hundred.
General Claiborne construed as liberally as he dared the order from General Flournoy which permitted him to drive the Creeks across the border, and to pursue them as far as the neighboring towns. He adopted the frontier notion of nearness when deciding whether or not a particular town that he wanted to strike was sufficiently near the dividing line between the white settlements and the Creek Nation.
His orders were to establish a fort at Weatherford's Bluff, and to remain in that neighborhood until he should be joined by Jackson's army and the Georgia troops, who were now advancing under command of General Floyd.
The force with which he advanced to execute this order was a motley one. There were three hundred volunteers, who were the main reliance of the commander. There was a small dragoon force, composed of good men. Pushmatahaw, the Choctaw warrior, with his followers accompanied the expedition, and a small force of militiamen completed the little army.
Arriving at Weatherford's Bluff on the 17th of November, Claiborne proceeded without delay to build a stockade fort inclosing nearly an acre of ground, within which he built three block-houses, while for defence against an assault from the river side of the encampment he established a battery on the bank. The work, when finished, was christened Fort Claiborne, and from it the present town of Claiborne on the same spot inherited the commander's name.
Here, on the 28th of November, Claiborne was reinforced by the Third Regiment of United States Infantry, under command of Colonel Russell, and in order that concert of action might be secured, he wrote hence to General Jackson at the Ten Islands, reporting the situation of affairs on the southern side of the field, and informing the Tennessee commander, of whose starvation he had heard, that abundant supplies of food awaited his coming.
His activity knew no bounds. He sent trustworthy messengers to Pensacola to learn the situation of affairs there, and ascertained through them that the British were there with a considerable fleet and abundant supplies both for the Indians and for their own troops, whose presence there threatened a descent upon Mobile or New Orleans. He wrote at once to Governor Blount, of Tennessee, informing him of these facts. He sent messengers also to Mount Vernon, instructing Colonel Nixon, who commanded there, to garrison Fort Pierce, a little post a few miles from the ruins of Fort Mims, and suppress a recently awakened activity among the Indians in that quarter.
The alertness of Claiborne's intelligence and his unwearied devotion to duty made him an especially fit man for the important charge that was laid upon him. A close study of his career shows him to have been indeed so capable a man in military affairs, that we may fairly regret that his field of operations was too small and too remote from the centres of American life to permit him to secure the fame which he fairly earned.
General Claiborne was not thinking of fame, however, but of making fierce war upon the Creeks and reducing them to subjection. He knew that Red Eagle with a strong force was at Econachaca, or the Holy Ground, and he determined to attack him there. The Holy Ground was one hundred and ten miles from Fort Claiborne, and it could not be, with any strictness of construction, considered a "neighboring" town; but the order which restricted Claiborne's excursions into the Creek Nation to the neighboring towns was couched in terms which did not admit of precise definition, and as he really wanted to march to the Holy Ground, the gallant general determined to regard it as a place within his immediate neighborhood. He did not know, in truth, precisely where it was, and there were neither roads nor paths through the woods to guide him to it, but he believed, with Suwarrow, the Russian commander, that a general can always find his enemy when he really wants to do so, and in this case Claiborne very earnestly wished to find and to fight Weatherford.
Accordingly he prepared to march. He was in poor condition for such an undertaking certainly, his force being weak in numbers, ill assorted, and in fact rather unwilling to go. Nine of his captains, eight lieutenants, and five ensigns sent him a written remonstrance against what they believed to be the mad undertaking. These officers directed their commander's attention to several ugly facts with respect to his situation. They reminded him that the weather was cold and inclement; that the troops were badly shod and insufficiently supplied with clothing; that there was scarcely a possibility of feeding them regularly upon so long a march into the literally pathless forest; and finally that the term of service for which many of the men had enlisted would soon come to an end.
The remonstrance was earnest, but perfectly respectful. The officers who signed it assured General Claiborne that if he should adhere to his determination they would go with him without murmuring, and do their duty. As there was nothing set forth in the remonstrance which Claiborne did not know or had not duly considered already, it made no change in his mind. He set his motley army in motion, determined to take all responsibility, dare all dangers, and endure all hardships for the sake of accomplishing the purpose which he had so long cherished, of carrying the war into the centre of the Creek Nation. How heavy the load of responsibility which he thus took upon himself was, and how firm his courage in assuming it must have been, we may understand when we reflect that defeat in his attempt would certainly have subjected him to a charge of criminal and reckless disobedience of orders in undertaking such an expedition at all. No such charge was ever preferred, because officers are not usually haled before a court-martial for winning battles.
The force with which he set out consisted of the Third Regiment of United States troops, under Colonel Russell; a squadron of cavalry, commanded by Major Cassels; one battalion of militia, led by Major Smoot, whom the reader will remember as one of the leaders at the battle of Burnt Corn; Colonel Carson's Mississippi volunteers, and Pushmatahaw's Choctaws, to the number of one hundred and fifty, making a total of about one thousand men. Dale was a captain now in Smoot's command, and accompanied the expedition in that capacity.
The march was begun early in December, through a country without roads, infested with Indians whose force could never be guessed, and in weather which was extremely unfavorable. Toilsomely the column advanced north-eastwardly, or nearly so, to a point eighty miles from Fort Claiborne, in what is now Butler County, Alabama. There Claiborne took the precaution to build a stockade fort, which he named Fort Deposit, and placed within it his baggage, his artillery, his supply wagons, and his sick men.
Leaving this fort with a garrison of one hundred men, Claiborne marched on toward the Holy Ground, which lay some thirty miles away. His men speedily consumed the three days' rations of flour which they had drawn before beginning the march from Fort Deposit, and when the army arrived at the Indian stronghold its supply of pork, the only remaining article of food, was nearly exhausted. Whatever was to be done must be done quickly, in order that the troops might not starve before reaching Fort Deposit on the return march.
The Holy Ground was a newly-established town, upon a spot chosen by Red Eagle because of its natural strength as a defensive position. It lay upon the eastern bank of the Alabama River, just below what is now Powell's Ferry, in the present Lowndes County, Alabama. The site of the town was a high bluff overlooking the river, and protected on the land side by marshes and deep ravines.
Here Red Eagle had gathered his forces in considerable strength, and hither had fled the remnants of various defeated bodies of Creeks, with their women and children. The prophets Sinquista and Josiah Francis, who were present, declared the soil to be sacred, and assured their comrades that no white troops would be permitted by the Great Spirit to cross the swamps and ravines which surrounded it.
Red Eagle, having more faith in defensive works than in supernatural interferences at the behest of his prophets, whose characters he probably understood pretty accurately, added to the natural strength of the place by picket and log fortifications, making it as difficult to assault successfully as he could.
In this central camp of refuge there were as many as two hundred houses, and during the two or three months which had elapsed since the town was established many of the prisoners taken by the Indians in battle had been brought hither and murdered. When Claiborne advanced to attack the place, preparations were making in the public square for the burning of a number of unfortunate captives, among whom were one white woman, Mrs. Sophia Durant, and several half-breeds.
Claiborne arrived on the 23d of December, and made his dispositions for the assault without delay. He advanced in three columns, leading the centre in person. The Indians, as soon as they learned of Claiborne's approach, made preparations for defence. They carried their women and children across the river and concealed them in the thick woods on the other side.
The savages made the first attack, falling violently upon the right column of Claiborne's force under Colonel Carson. The onset was repulsed after a brief engagement, the Indians becoming panic-stricken for some reason never explained, and retreating. Weatherford led the attack, and for a time contested the field very stubbornly; but his men failing in courage in spite of all that he could do, he was powerless to maintain his ground.
Major Cassels, who with his squadron of cavalry had been ordered to occupy the river bank, failed to do so, and fell back instead upon Carson's regiment; and that gallant officer, seeing the gap thus produced, advanced his line and occupied the ground. Meantime, however, the mischief had been done. Cassels's failure had left a road of escape open to the Indians at the critical moment, and hundreds of them fled and swam the river to the thick woods on the other side.
When the Indian line broke and the retreat began, the nature of the ground, crossed as it was by ravines and dotted with marshes, made any thing like vigorous and systematic pursuit impossible. Perhaps their consciousness that escape by flight was easy helped to induce the Indians to abandon the struggle when they did. However that may be, they fled, and Weatherford could not rally them. Seeing himself left alone, with no followers to maintain the struggle, he was forced to choose between flight and capture. Flight, however, was not now by any means easy. He was mounted upon a superb gray horse which carried him in his flight with the speed of the wind, but he was not long in discovering that Carson had closed the gap through which he had hoped to escape. His enemies were on every side of him but one, and on that side was the high bluff. The story of what he did, as it is commonly told, is a very marvellous one. A bluff about one hundred feet high at the Holy Ground is shown to travellers, who are told that Red Eagle, seeing no other way of escape, boldly dashed spurs into his horse and forced him to make the fearful leap to the river below! As the story is usually told in print it is somewhat less marvellous, but is still sufficiently so to serve the purposes of a popular legend. It is that a ravine passed through the upper part of the bluff, reducing its height to about fifty feet, and that Red Eagle made a leap on his horse from that height. This version of the story is so gravely told in books that are not romances, that the author of the present volume once cited it in print in justification of an incident in a work of fiction, believing at the time that the legend was well authenticated. In examining authorities more carefully, as he was bound to do before writing of the incident in a serious work of this kind, he finds that the leap was much less wonderful than has been represented. Mr. Pickett, in his History of Alabama, gives us the following account, which he assures us he had from Red Eagle's own lips:
"Coursing with great rapidity along the banks of the Alabama, below the town, on a gray steed of unsurpassed strength and fleetness, which he had purchased a short time before the commencement of hostilities of Benjamin Baldwin, late of Macon County, [he] came at length to the termination of a kind of ravine, where there was a perpendicular bluff ten or fifteen feet above the surface of the river. Over this with a mighty bound the horse pitched with the gallant chief, and both went out of sight beneath the waves. Presently they rose again, the rider having hold of the mane with one hand and his rifle firmly grasped in the other. Regaining his saddle, the noble animal swam with him to the Autauga side."