THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The spirit of revolt which had risen up in Jackson’s army would not
down. Though unflinchingly faced by him it rose and rose again; for
these men of the border lands were wild, uncontrolled fellows who knew
no discipline and were accustomed to receive orders from no man.
Once Jackson brought two pieces of artillery to bear upon them, loaded
and the gunners with lighted matches in their hands. But as often as he
suppressed the mutinies just as often they broke out in a fresh place.
So persistent did the thing become that the authorities of the state
of Tennessee, and those at Washington, evidently having little hope
of securing any real service from such a discontented force, took a
hand in the proceedings; the result was that the men were gradually
recalled. At one period the indomitable Jackson had but a hundred men
left him.
But then the tide turned. Because of his own persistent efforts, those
of the authorities whom he aroused, and the good will of those of his
officers who had returned to the settlements, a new army was raised. By
the middle of the following March some five thousand well conditioned
troops were assembled at Fort Strother.
During this entire time of stress and falling away, Jack Davis and
Frank Lawrence clung to the cause of the general. And now that his star
was once more upon the rise, they were delighted.
“Any other man, almost, would have gone down under that fight and never
risen again,” said Jack, admiringly.
“It’ll not be long now before he gets to work again,” said Frank.
“I don’t think it’ll be as easy a task as it would have been some time
ago,” observed the young borderer. “The Creeks have pulled themselves
together, and they are once more ready to make a fight of it.”
During all this time of trouble at Fort Strother, things had not been
at a standstill in the Creek country; that savage tribe had been
ravaging and burning; the war-whoop had been heard in many a little
hamlet, and the tomahawks and scalping knife had made their presence
felt. But the white man had not done much in return. Floyd and a body
of Georgia militia had marched against the Indian towns on the lower
Tallapoosa. At a place called Autosee, in November, he attacked the
redskins and drove them from the field, slaying some two hundred of
their warriors. However, though much was expected of him, Floyd did
little more. An expedition up the Alabama River under General Claiborne
was a failure.
From then on it was seen that if the Creeks were subdued it would be
Jackson’s force that would do it.
But while the renewing of his army was in progress, Jackson had not
altogether closed his work against the hostiles. He was not the man to
pause, even though he had but soldiers enough to man his few pieces of
artillery. But by the early part of January, 1814, he had a strong body
of men at Fort Strother; though more were on their way, he felt that he
need not wait for them.
About eighty miles south of his position on the Coosa River was a
fortified camp of Creeks, a place called Tohopeka. At this place the
savages were assembling in great numbers; the scouts from Fort Strother
had been watching them for some time and keeping the general closely in
touch with what was happening there.
One night Jack Davis and Frank Lawrence arrived at the fort, their
horses in a lather of foam. At once they went to the commander’s tent
and were admitted. The general was seated at his table going over a map
he had made of the region, and he looked up as the boys entered.
“Well,” said he, “what is there to report?”
“We’ve been scouting in the neighborhood of Tohopeka for the last
week,” said Jack. “And things have reached such a state we thought it
best to come in at once.”
“Hah!” The deep-set eyes of the general began to glow. “So the Indians
are still gathering?”
“They are,” replied Frank. “All the villages for a hundred miles around
the fortifications are pouring braves into it. There is something of
great moment about to be attempted.”
“They are better armed than I ever saw Indians before,” put in Jack.
“And they are drilling and practicing the maneuvers of the white man’s
sort of warfare.”
General Jackson, with a quietness of demeanor which was ominous, asked
a number of pertinent questions; and when he had learned all they had
to tell, he said:
“That will do. And as you go out, give my compliments to Colonel Coffee
and beg him to step into my room.”
When they were outside, Frank said in a low, exultant tone:
“That means a move of some sort, as sure as you live.”
Colonel Coffee was closeted with the commander for perhaps an hour;
then other officers of rank were summoned. The result was that on the
following day Jackson led a force of nine hundred mounted riflemen,
some two hundred Cherokees and a cannon for use against the Creek
fortifications.
Five days this little army marched through the wilderness; then camp
was made upon the banks of Emuckfan Creek at a place only three miles
from the Indian fort against which they were moving. Preparations were
made for a sharp blow to be delivered next day; guards were placed
about the camp in the charge of alert young woodsmen, among whom were
Jack and Frank.
Quiet reigned in the forest; the water of the stream went rippling over
the stones in its bed, the wind stirred in the tops of the trees, the
stars looked down peacefully. But even in the midst of the quiet, Jack
was not at rest.
“I don’t know just why it is,” said he, “but I’ve got the feeling that
something is going to happen.”
“It’s the same with me,” replied Frank, in the same whispering tone
which his friend had used. There was a short pause, then he added: “I
suppose I’m foolish for thinking so, but somehow I’ve got the notion
that the Creeks are on the move to-night.”
“What makes you feel that?” asked Jack, and there was a note in his
voice which Frank knew as mingled eagerness and alarm.
“I fancied I heard and saw something several times off there to the
south and west,” said the young Virginian.
“That settles it,” breathed Jack. “I’ve been thinking the same thing.
And the fact that we both saw and heard it shows that it is true.”
Quickly, but with caution, the word was passed to the guard; at once it
began to pass from man to man on watch about the camp. Then the lads
stole back to the line of tents, and in a few minutes the men were
aroused and stood under arms awaiting the word from their officers.
And it was well that they were prepared, for suddenly the forest seemed
alive with savages; the night was filled with the war-whoop of the
border-land. But to the amazement of the exultant savages, instead of
a sleeping camp, they found lines of riflemen. A sleet of lead swept
among them, and with yells of rage they fell back into the cover of
the woods. Once more, after dawn, the Creeks attacked the white men,
but again they were beaten off, and retired to their fort.
Jackson now managed to get sight of this, and also had an opportunity
of estimating the number of savages facing him.
“They are too strong!” said he, promptly. “With the force at hand we’ll
be taking too many chances in attacking them.”
“You’ll not fall back,” objected the officers.
Jackson nodded and smiled grimly.
“But don’t be afraid, sir,” said he. “The Creeks will still be here
when we come again.”
Having made up his mind, Jackson at once set his little army upon its
retrograde motion. Eagerly the savages followed, hanging to his flanks
persistently. At a stream called the Enotachopco, the Creeks attacked
the rear guard fiercely; but with the aid of the six-pounder gun they
were held back until the stream was crossed.
On the twelfth day after its departure the army reached Fort Strother
once more. The result of the expedition was that the great prospective
movement of the Indians was halted and that two hundred of them had
fallen in the fighting. Jackson’s loss was twenty-four killed and
seventy-one wounded.