How Old Hickory Fought The Creeks

Shall we seek to picture to our readers a scene in the streets of

Nashville, Tennessee, less than a century ago, though it seems to belong

to the days of barbarism? Two groups of men, made up of the most

respectable citizens of the place, stood furiously shooting at each

other with pistols and guns, as if this was their idea of after-dinner

recreation. Their leaders were Colonel Thomas H. Benton, afterward

famous in th United States Senate, and General Andrew Jackson, famous

in a dozen ways. The men of the frontier in those days were hot in

temper and quick in action, and family feuds led quickly to wounds and

death, as they still do in the mountains of East Tennessee.



Some trifling quarrel, that might perhaps have been settled by five

minutes of common-sense arbitration, led to this fierce fray, in the

midst of which Jesse Benton, brother of the colonel, fired at Jackson

with a huge pistol, loaded to the muzzle with bullets and slugs. It was

like a charge of grape-shot. A slug from it shattered Jackson's left

shoulder, a ball sank to the bone in his left arm, and another ball

splintered a board by his side.



When the fight ended Jackson was found insensible in the entry of a

tavern, with the blood pouring profusely from his wounds. He was carried

in and all the doctors of the town were summoned, but before the

bleeding could be stopped two mattresses were soaked through with blood.

The doctors said the arm was so badly injured that it must be taken off

at once. But when Old Hickory set his lips in his grim way, and said,

"I'll keep my arm," the question was settled; no one dare touch that

arm.



For weeks afterward Jackson lay, a helpless invalid, while his terrible

wounds slowly healed. And while he lay there a dreadful event took place

in the territory to the south, which called for the presence of men like

Old Hickory, sound of limb and in full strength. This was the frightful

Indian massacre at Fort Mimms, one of the worst in all our history.



It was now the autumn of the year 1813, the second year of the war with

England. Tecumseh, the famous Indian warrior and orator, had stirred up

the savages of the South to take the British side in the war, and for

fear of an Indian rising the settlers around Fort Mimms, in southern

Alabama, had crowded into the fort, which was only a rude log stockade.

On the morning of August 30 more than five hundred and fifty souls, one

hundred of them being women and children, were crowded within that

contracted space. On the evening of that day four hundred of them,

including all the women and children, lay bleeding on the ground,

scalped and shockingly mangled. A thousand Creek Indians had broken into

the carelessly guarded fort, and perpetrated one of the most horrid

massacres in the history of Indian wars. Weathersford, the leader of the

Indians, tried to stop the ferocious warriors in their dreadful work,

but they surrounded him and threatened him with their tomahawks while

they glutted to the full their thirst for blood.



Many days passed before the news of this frightful affair in the

southern wilderness reached Nashville. The excitement it created was

intense. The savages were in arms and had tasted blood. The settlements

everywhere were in peril. The country might be ravaged from the Ohio to

the Gulf. It was agreed by all that there was only one thing to do, the

Indians must be put down. But the man best fitted to do it, the man who

was depended upon in every emergency, lay half dead in his room, slowly

recovering from his dreadful wound.



A year before Jackson had led two thousand men to Natchez to defend New

Orleans in case the British should come, and had been made by the

government a major-general of volunteers. He was the man every one

wanted now, but to get him seemed impossible, and the best that could be

done was to get his advice. So a committee was appointed to visit and

confer with the wounded hero.



When the members of the committee called on the war-horse of the West

they found him still within the shadow of death, his wounds sore and

festering, his frame so weak that he could barely raise his head from

the pillow. But when they told him of the massacre and the revengeful

feeling of the people, the news almost lifted him from his bed. It

seemed to send new life coursing through his veins. His voice, weakened

by illness, yet with its old ring of decision, was raised for quick and

stern action against the savage foes who had so long menaced Tennessee.

And if they wanted a leader he was the man.



When the committee reported the next day, they said there was no doubt

that "our brave and patriotic General Jackson" would be ready to lead

the men of war by the time they were ready to march. Where Jackson led

there would be plenty to follow. Four thousand men were called out with

orders to assemble at Fayetteville, eighty miles south of Nashville, on

October 4, just one month from the day when Jackson had received his

wounds. From his bed he took command. By his orders Colonel Coffee rode

to Huntsville, Alabama, with five hundred men. As he advanced volunteers

came riding in armed and equipped, till he was at the head of thirteen

hundred men.



On the 7th of October Jackson himself reached the rendezvous. He was

still a mere wreck, thin as a shadow, tottering with weakness, and

needing to be lifted bodily to his horse. His arm was closely bound and

in a sling. His wounds were so sensitive that the least jar or wrench

gave him agony. His stomach was in such a state that he was in danger

of dying from starvation. Several times during his first two days' ride

he had to be sponged from head to foot with whiskey. Yet his dauntless

spirit kept him up, and he bore the dreadful ride of eighty miles with a

fortitude rarely equalled. So resolute was he that he reached

Fayetteville before half the men had gathered. He was glad there to

receive news that the Creeks were advancing northward towards Tennessee.



"Give them my thanks for saving me the pain of travelling," he said. "I

must not be outdone in politeness, and will try to meet them half-way."



On the 11th a new advance was made to Huntsville, the troops riding six

miles an hour for five hours, a remarkable feat for a man in Jackson's

condition. Many a twinge of bitter pain he had on that march, but his

spirit was past yielding. At this point Colonel Coffee was joined, and

the troops encamped on a bend of the Tennessee River. A false alarm of

the advance of the Indians had caused this hasty march.



Jackson and his men--twenty-five hundred in number with thirteen hundred

horses--now found themselves threatened by a foe more terrible than the

Indians they had come to meet. They were in the heart of the wilderness

of Alabama, far away from any full supply of food. Jackson thus

describes this foe, in a letter written by his secretary:



"There is an enemy whom I dread much more than I do the hostile

Creeks--I mean the meagre monster Famine. I shall leave this

encampment in the morning direct for the Ten Islands, and yet I have

not on hand two days' supply of bread-stuffs."






A thousand barrels of flour and a proportionate supply of meat had been

purchased for him a week before. But the Tennessee River was low, the

flatboats would not float, and the much-needed food lay in the shallows

three hundred miles up-stream. There was nothing to do but to live on

the country, and this Colonel Coffee had swept almost clear of

provisions on his advance movement.



Under such circumstances Jackson ran a great risk in marching farther

into the Indian country. Yet the exigency was one in which boldness

seemed necessary. A reverse movement might have brought the Indians in

force on the settlers of Tennessee, with sanguinary results. Keeping his

foragers busy in search of food, he moved steadily southward till the

Coosa River was reached. Here came the first encounter with the savages.

There was a large body of them at Tallushatches, thirteen miles away. At

daybreak on the morning after the Coosa was reached the Indian camp was

encircled by Colonel Coffee with a thousand men. The savages, taken by

surprise, fought fiercely and desperately, and fell where they stood,

fighting while a warrior remained alive. All the prisoners were women

and children, who were taken to the settlements and kindly treated.

Jackson himself brought up one of the boys in his own family.



Four days afterward news came that a body of friendly Creeks, one

hundred and fifty in number, were at Talladega, thirty miles away,

surrounded by a thousand hostile Indians, cut off from their

water-supply and in imminent danger of annihilation. A wily chief had

dressed himself in the skin of a large hog, and in this disguise passed

unsuspected through the hostile lines, bringing his story to Jackson

twenty-four hours later.



At that moment the little army had only one day's supply of food, but

its general did not hesitate. Advancing with all the men fit to move,

they came within hearing of the yelling enemy, and quickly closed in

upon them. When that brief battle ended two hundred of the Indian braves

lay dead on the field and Colonel Coffee with his horsemen was in hot

pursuit of the remainder. As for the rescued Indians, their joy was

beyond measure, for they had looked only for death. They gathered around

their preserver, expressing their gratitude by joyful cries and

gestures, and gladly gave what little corn they had left to feed the

hungry soldiers.



The loss of the whites in this raid was fifteen men killed and

eighty-six wounded. The badly wounded were carried in litters back to

Fort Strother, where the sick had been left, and where Jackson now fully

expected to find a full supply of food. To his acute disappointment not

an ounce had arrived, little in the shape of food being left but a few

half-starved cattle. For several days Jackson and his staff ate nothing

but tripe without seasoning.



And now, for ten long weeks, came that dread contest he had feared,--the

battle with famine. With a good supply of provisions he could have

ended the war in a fortnight. As it was, the men had simply to wait and

forage, being at times almost in a starving state. The brave borderers

found it far harder to sit and starve than it would have been to fight,

and discontent in the camp rose to the height of mutiny, which it took

all the general's tact and firmness to overcome.



Part of his men were militia, part of them volunteers, and between these

there was a degree of jealousy. On one occasion the militia resolved to

start for home, but when they set out in the early morning they found

the volunteers drawn up across the road, with their grim general at

their head. When they saw Jackson they turned and marched back to their

quarters again. Soon afterward the volunteers were infected with the

same fancy. But again Jackson was aware of their purpose, and when they

marched from their quarters they found their way blocked by the militia,

with Jackson at their head. The tables had been turned on them.



As time went on and hunger grew more relentless, the spirit of

discontent infected the entire force, and it took all the general's

power to keep them in camp. On one occasion, a large body of the men

seized their arms, and, swearing that they would not stay there to be

starved, got ready to march home. General Jackson, hot with wrath,

seized a musket, and planting himself before them, swore "by the

Eternal" that he would shoot the first man that set a foot forward. His

countenance was appalling in its concentrated rage, his eyes blazed

with a terrible fire, and the mutineers, confronted by this apparition

of fury, hesitated, drew back, and retired to their tents.



But the time came at length in which nothing would hold them back.

Persuasion and threats were alike useless. The general used entreaties

and promises, saying,--



"I have advices that supply-wagons are on the way, and that there is a

large drove of cattle near at hand. Wait two days more, and if then they

do not come, we will all march home together."



The two days passed and the food did not arrive. Much against his will,

he was obliged to keep his word. "If only two men will stay with me," he

cried, "I will never give up the post."



One hundred and nine men agreed to remain, and, leaving these in charge

of the fort, Jackson set out at the head of the others, with their

promise that, when they procured supplies and satisfied their hunger,

they would return to the fort and march upon the foe. The next day the

expected provision-train was met, and the hungry men were well fed. But

home was in their minds, and it took all the general's indomitable will

and fierce energy to induce them to turn back, and they did so then in

sullen discontent. In the end it was necessary to exchange these men for

fresh volunteers.



When the dissatisfied men got home they told such doleful tales of their

hardships and sufferings that the people were filled with dismay,

volunteering came to an end, and even the governor wrote to Jackson,

advising him to give up the expedition as hopeless and return home.



Had not Andrew Jackson been one man in a million he would not have

hesitated to obey. A well man might justly have despaired. But to a

physical wreck, his shoulder still painful, his left arm useless,

suffering from insufficient food, from acute dyspepsia, from chronic

diarrhoea, from cramps of terrible severity--to a man in this

condition, who should have been in bed under a physician's care, to

remain seemed utter madness, and yet he remained. His indomitable spirit

triumphed over his enfeebled body. He had set out to subdue the hostile

Indians and save the settlements from their murderous raids, and, "by

the Eternal," he would.



He wrote a letter to Governor Blount, eloquent, logical, appealing,

resolute, and so convincing in its arguments that the governor changed

his sentiment, the people became enthusiastic, volunteers came forward

freely, and the most earnest exertions were made to collect and forward

supplies. But this was not till the spring of 1814, and the lack of

supplies continued the winter through. Only nine hundred discontented

troops remained, but with these he won two victories over the Indians,

in one of which an utter panic was averted only by his courage and

decision in the hour of peril.



At length fresh troops began to arrive. A regiment of United States

soldiers, six hundred strong, reached him on February 6. By the 1st of

March there were six thousand troops near Fort Strother, and only the

arrival of a good food supply was awaited to make a finishing move. Food

came slowly, despite all exertions. Over the miry roads the wagon-teams

could hardly be moved with light loads. Only absolutely necessary food

was brought,--even whiskey, considered indispensable in those days,

being barred out. All sick and disabled men were sent home, and the

non-combatants weeded out so thoroughly that only one man was left in

camp who could beat the ordinary calls on the drum. At length, about the

middle of March, a sufficient supply of food was at hand and the final

advance began.



Meanwhile, the hostile Creeks had made themselves a stronghold at a

place fifty-five miles to the south. Here was a bend of Tallapoosa

River, called, from its shape, Tohopeka, or the "Horseshoe." It was a

well-wooded area, about one hundred acres in extent, across whose neck

the Indians had built a strong breastwork of logs, with two rows of

port-holes, the whole so well constructed that it was evident they had

been aided by British soldiers in its erection. At the bottom of the

bend was a village of wigwams, and there were many canoes in the stream.



Within this stronghold was gathered the fighting force of the tribe,

nearly a thousand warriors, and in the wigwams were about three hundred

women and children. It was evident that they intended to make here their

final, desperate stand.



The force led against them was two thousand strong. Their route of

travel lay through the unbroken forest wilds, and it took eleven days to

reach the Indian fort. A glance at it showed Jackson the weakness of the

savage engineering. As he said, they had "penned themselves in for

destruction."



The work began by sending Colonel Coffee across the river, with orders

to post his men opposite the line of canoes and prevent the Indians from

escaping. Coffee did more than this; he sent swimmers over who cut loose

the canoes and brought them across the stream. With their aid he sent

troops over the bend to attack the savages in the rear while Jackson

assailed them in front.



The battle began with a fierce assault, but soon settled down to a slow

slaughter, which lasted for five or six hours,--the fierce warriors, as

in the former battles, refusing to ask for quarter or to accept their

lives. Their prophets had told them that if they did they would be put

to death by torture. When the battle ended few of them were left alive.

On the side of the whites only fifty-five were killed and about three

times as many wounded.



This signal defeat ended forever the power of the Cree nation, once the

leading Indian power of the Gulf region. Such of the chiefs as survived

surrendered. Among them was Weathersford, their valiant half-breed

leader. Mounted on his well-known gray horse, famed for its speed and

endurance, he rode to the door of Jackson's tent. The old soldier looked

up to see before him this famous warrior, tall, erect, majestic, and

dignified.



"I am Weathersford," he said; "late your enemy, now your captive."



From without the tent came fierce cries of "Kill him! kill him!"



"You may kill me if you wish," said the proud chief; "but I came to tell

you that our women and children are starving in the woods. They never

did you any harm and I came to beg you to send them food."



Jackson looked sternly at the angry throng outside, and said, in his

vigorous way, "Any man who would kill as brave a man as this would rob

the dead."



He then invited the chief into his tent, where he promised him the aid

he asked for and freedom for himself. "I do not war with women and

children," he said.



So corn was sent to the suffering women, and Weathersford was allowed to

mount his good gray steed and ride away as he had come. He induced the

remaining Creeks to accept the terms offered by the victorious general,

these being peace and protection, with the provision that half their

lands should be ceded to the United States.



As may well be imagined, a triumphant reception was given Jackson and

his men on their return to Nashville. Shortly afterward came the news

that he had been appointed Major-General in the army of the United

States, to succeed William Henry Harrison, resigned. He had made his

mark well against the Indians; he was soon to make it as well against

the British at New Orleans.