the people of Cumberland and East Tennessee. Two thousand warriors,
principally Cherokees, of whom four or five hundred were horsemen
dressed as white men, made an irruption into East Tennessee, killing
everything before them. Generals Sevier and Martin, with a large body
of pioneers, had marched into their territory, laying waste their
fields and villages. When their chief, Big Tassel, came to Sevier’s
camp with a flag to hold a talk, he was killed by a soldier named Kirk,
whose family had been murdered by his warriors. This outrage added new
flames to the rage of the Cherokees, who no longer sought peace. In
their revengeful foray, they stormed Fort Gillespie, eight miles from
Knoxville, and butchered men, women and children, carrying off Mrs.
Glass, the sister of Capt. Gillespie.
These savages were not wholly illiterate: many of their leaders could
speak and even write English, and they well understood the sacred
character of a white flag and of treaties. The following proclamation,
written at Fort Gillespie after the massacre, by Watts, or some of his
half-breed followers, is curious and illustrative. It is signed by
Bloody Fellow, Categisky, John Watts, and The Glass.
Oct. 15th,[13] 1798.
_To Mr._ JOHN SEVIER _and_ JOSEPH MARTIN, _and to You, the Inhabitants
of the New State_.
“We would wish to inform you of the accidents that happened at
Gillespie’s Fort, concerning the women and children that were killed in
the battle.
“The Bloody Fellow’s talk is, that he is now here upon his own ground.
He is not like you are, for you kill women and children and he does
not. He had orders to do it, and to order them off the land, and he
came and ordered them to surrender, and they should not be hurt, and
they would not. And he stormed it and took it.
“For you, you beguiled the head man (Big Tassel), who was your friend,
and wanted to keep peace.
“But you began it, and this is what you get for it. When you move off
the land, then he will make peace, and give up the women and children.
“And you must march off in thirty days.
“Five thousand is our number!”
In the spring of 1789, an exchange of prisoners was agreed upon at a
talk held with Gen. Sevier. It was agreed that the Cherokees should
make an absolute surrender of all the white persons within their
borders, and runners were sent to each of the head men, to send their
captives to the Little Turkey for an exchange. When these runners came
to Nickajack, young Brown was on a trading trip down the river with his
Indian brother Kiachatalee, and did not return until Mrs. Glass and all
the other prisoners had gone up to Running Water, where the chief was
awaiting their arrival.
When young Brown got home, he was sent with one of his sisters to
Running Water, in order to be sent up to the treaty-grounds to be
exchanged. His little sister would not leave her Indian mother, who had
ever treated her kindly, but wept and clung to her neck, declaring that
it would break her Indian mother’s heart if she left her. This tender
feeling was a tribute to savage kindness, but young Brown finally took
his sister in his arms, and carried her some distance, before he could
reconcile her to go with him. His eldest sister belonged to a trader,
who said he had bought her with his money, and would not let her go.
Joseph had to leave her behind, being wholly unable to redeem her.
At Running Water, young Brown heard Turkey, the head chief, stating
to his chiefs around him the terms of the treaty he had made: and in
doing so, his followers upbraided him for agreeing to deliver so many
prisoners without any ransom. To this the chief replied, “Little John
(meaning Sevier) would have it so; he is a very mean man--a dog; but he
has my daughter a prisoner, and he knew I would have to agree to any
terms, to get her back.”
The next morning, when the Indian chief was about to start his
prisoners forward, young Brown refused to go, and was taken to the
chief to give his reasons. He then stated that one of his sisters
was left in Nickajack, and that he never would consent to be set at
liberty without her. The savage chief immediately sent for the girl,
and after some delay, Col. Bench, the chief of the mounted regiment of
Indians, went himself, and brought the girl to Running Water. Thus,
about the first of May, 1789, young Brown and his two sisters were once
more restored to liberty. Being reduced to poverty, these now orphan
children were sent into South Carolina, to sojourn with some relatives
until their elder brother, who was in Cumberland, could go after them,
or until their mother should be released from her captivity amongst the
Creeks.
We must now return to the 9th of May, 1788, and continue the narrative
of Mrs. Brown’s captivity. Having seen her husband fall by the hands
of savages, she was hurried away by her captors, and took the road
southward, just as she heard the yells and rifles of the cruel savages
who murdered her sons and their companions. What must have been the
feelings of horror and agony of this poor woman, herself a prisoner in
the hands of she knew not whom, and borne she knew not whither! To add
to the horror of her situation, she soon saw two of her sweet little
daughters torn from her side by a party of Cherokees, and borne back,
she knew not whither, nor for what end.
Driven forward on foot for many days and nights, she continued to
bear up under the bodily fatigues and mental anguish by which she
was tortured, her feet blistered and swollen, and driven before the
pack-horses along a flinty path, every moment expecting death if she
failed, and every moment expecting to fail! She yet accomplished many
days’ travel, and finally reached one of the upper Creek towns on the
Tallapoosa, far down in the wilderness. Arrived at the town of her
captor, she found herself a slave, doomed to bear wood and water, pound
hominy, and do all servile offices for her savage mistress. To add to
her distress, her son, nine years old, and her daughter, seven, were
taken to different towns, and she was left indeed alone in her sorrow.
At the period of Mrs. Brown’s captivity, Alexander M’Gillevray, a
half-breed Creek, of Scotch descent, was the head chief of the Muscogee
Indians, and assumed the title of Commander-in-chief of the Upper and
Lower Creeks and the Seminoles; being the military as well as the civil
governor of all the Indians of Florida, Alabama, and Lower Georgia.
He was a man of keen sagacity, forest-born and forest-bred, combining
the shrewdness of the savage with the learning of the civilized man.
Fortunately for Mrs. Brown, her cruel captor took her to a town in
which lived a sister of M’Gillevray, who was the wife of a French
trader by the name of Durant. Her age and dignified bearing under the
toils imposed upon her, excited the sympathy and compassion of this
kind-hearted Indian woman. Several weeks passed before she found an
opportunity, but when Mrs. Brown’s savage master was absent, the wife
of Durant spoke to her kindly, told her that she pitied her sorrow,
and would, if she could, relieve her. She said her brother, the chief
of the Creeks, did not approve of his people’s making slaves of the
white women, and that he was a liberal, high-minded man, who had a soul
of honor, and would never turn away from a helpless woman who came to
him for succor. “Why do you not fly to him?” asked the simple-hearted
woman.
Mrs. Brown explained to her her total ignorance of the country, and her
inability to reach the residence of Col. McGillevray. The Indian woman
listened to her, and then said, “It is true: but if you will, there is
my horse, and there is my saddle. You are welcome to them; but you must
take them. I cannot give them, but my husband shall never pursue. You
can take them without danger.” It was arranged. On a certain morning
the Indian woman sent an aged Indian, who was to act as the guide of
Mrs. Brown, as far as a trader’s house; from which point the trader was
to procure a guide and a horse.
At the appointed time, Mrs. Brown, mounted upon her friend’s horse and
saddle, started in pursuit of her Indian guide, who travelled on as
though entirely unconscious of her existence. She arrived in safety at
the trader’s lodge, and was by him furnished with a guide and horse to
the chieftain’s residence. Full of gratitude for intended kindness,
she yet approached the Creek chieftain with many feelings of doubt and
misgiving. He received her kindly, heard her story attentively, and
after considering it well, gave Mrs. Brown a cordial welcome to his
house, and bade her stay with his wife, as a member of his family.
He explained to her that, according to the usage of his people, she
belonged to her captor, and that he had no right to take her from him.
He said, however, that he could no doubt reconcile her master by some
presents, when he should follow, as he no doubt would before long. He
told her she could make shirts or other garments for the traders, and
soon provide herself with everything necessary for her comfort. In the
meantime, he would furnish her with whatever she needed. Mrs. Brown
accepted the savage chieftain’s proffered protection, and took shelter
under his roof. She had been there but a few days when she was startled
by the appearance of her savage master, who had followed her to her
place of refuge. Fortunately for her, the chieftain was at home, and
himself met her pursuer. The Indian gruffly demanded of his chieftain
the white woman, his prisoner.
Col. McGillevray at once informed him that she was in his house,
and that he had promised to protect her. The savage merely replied,
“Well, if you do not give me back my prisoner, I’ll kill her.” The wily
chieftain knew his man, and humoring his temper, replied, “That is
true. She is your prisoner, and you can kill her, if you choose. I know
she is a weak woman, and you are a brave warrior. Would you tie the
scalp of a squaw about your neck?”
“But she can carry water, and hoe corn, and pound hominy for my wife,”
said the Creek warrior; “and she’s mine; she’s my prisoner.”
“That’s true,” said the chieftain; “but if you kill her, will she carry
any more water? Can the dead work? If you will consent to leave her
with me, so that I can send her back to her people, I will send your
wife a new dress, and will give you a rifle, some powder and lead, and
some beads and paints; and when you go back to your wife, she will not
see the blood of a woman upon your hands!”
Savage cupidity overcame savage revenge, and Mrs. Brown became the
ransomed captive of the brave and generous McGillevray; a noble
instance of chivalry on the part of a savage chieftain, which reflects
more honor on his name than the glory of a hundred battles fought by
his people during his chieftaincy. For several months she plied her
needle in his lodge, and by her experience in the craft of needle-work
soon rendered herself useful to her Indian friends, and by her dignity
and energy commanded their respect.
The chieftain on his next visit to the upper Creek towns, found Mrs.
Brown’s daughter, Elizabeth, aged about seven years, generously
purchased her from her master, and upon his return home had the
pleasure of restoring the sweet child to her distressed mother: a
grateful duty, nobly performed! He also informed Mrs. Brown that he
had seen her son George, and tried to induce his master to part with
him, but that he was so much attached to the boy he would not part from
him on any terms. But he assured her he would not fail, as soon as
possible, to ransom her son, and restore him also to her arms.
In November, 1789, Col. McGillevray had appointed to meet commissioners
to arrange terms of peace, at Rock Landing, Georgia. On his departure
for the treaty grounds, he took Mrs. Brown and her daughter, and there
delivered them to her son William, who came from South Carolina, and
had gone thither in hopes that he might be enabled to hear something of
her and her long lost children.
Thus, in November, 1789, after eighteen months’ captivity, she was at
last united with her surviving children. They spent a short time in
South Carolina with some relatives, and returned to Guilford, N. C.,
at last restored to her friends, whom she had left but two short years
before. But what a change had taken place in her destiny since she had
started westward with her husband, sons, and neighbors, so full of life
and hope! All her captive children were now restored to her, except
George, who was in one of the upper Creek villages, doomed to a still
longer captivity.
Mrs. Brown had two sons who were in the Cumberland Valley on the 9th
of May, 1788; William the surveyor, and Daniel, aged twelve years, who
went over the land route with some stock, to the Cumberland Valley.
During her short stay in Guilford, her benefactor, the Creek chieftain,
passed through Guilford Court House, and sent word to Mrs. Brown that
he was there. She immediately went with her brother, Col. Gillespie,
Rev. Dr. Caldwell, and her son William, and thanked him with them. In
addition, her brother offered to pay Col. McGillevray any sum he might
think proper to demand, as the ransom of Mrs. Brown and her daughter,
but the generous Creek refused any compensation whatever. He said he
owed it to humanity and honor to do as he had done, and that to receive
pay for it would deprive him both of the real pleasure and real honor
of such a deed. He assured Mrs. Brown he would not fail to use his best
efforts to restore her son, and she might rely upon his finding out
some means to accomplish so good an object.
Mrs. Brown, with the remnant of her family, again turned her face
westward, seeking the new home which the foresight of her husband had
prepared for her and her children, and to which he was so boldly
conducting them when he perished. And now at last, in 1791, this
devoted woman and all her surviving children but one, found themselves
at their new home, at the mouth of White’s creek, near Nashville.
About this time her son Joseph, while travelling with a small party of
friends, was shot through the arm by a party of savages in ambush; a
severe wound, from which he did not recover for some time.
In 1792, a formidable body of Creeks, Cherokees, and Shawanees invaded
Cumberland Valley, attacked Buchanan’s Station, and were repulsed
with great loss. Joseph Brown came the next morning, with a large
party of friends, to the assistance of Buchanan, but the Indians had
retreated. Upon approaching the scene of action, what was young Brown’s
astonishment at finding his Indian brother, Kiachatalee, lying cold in
death upon the field, near the walls of the fort against which he had
so gallantly led the assault! The next year, Joseph attended a treaty
at Tellico, in East Tennessee, where he met a nephew of Kiachatalee,
named Charles Butler, with whom he had been well acquainted while a
prisoner at Nickajack. Butler gave him the Indian version of the attack
on Buchanan’s Station, and also the story of Kiachatalee’s heroic
death. He said the assault was led by Kiachatalee; that he attempted to
set fire to the block-house, and was actually blowing it into a flame,
when he was mortally wounded. He continued, after receiving his mortal
wound, to blow the fire, and to cheer his followers to the assault,
calling upon them to fight like brave men, and never give up till they
had taken the fort.[14]
There were many incidents of frontier life, such as Mrs. Brown’s was
now, which would be interesting to the present generation, but the
length of this sketch will necessarily exclude many of them. On one
occasion, her eldest son, William, while in pursuit of a party of
Indians near Nashville, was severely wounded in the arm, so that almost
every member of her family had been captured, wounded, or slain by the
hands of the Indians. These were trials hard to bear; yet amidst all
her troubles Mrs. Brown bore herself as an humble Christian, devoutly
grateful to the Giver of all good, that He had watched over her and
guided her footsteps aright, in the midst of so many sorrows.
In the year 1794, such had been the continued outrages of the savages
from the lower Cherokee towns, in conjunction with marauding Creeks
and Shawanees, upon the Cumberland settlements, that the principal
pioneers resolved to fit out an expedition at their own expense, march
to Nickajack and Running Water, and punish those lawless people with
fire and sword. The national administration had, by its Commissioners,
made treaty after treaty with the Cherokees, but still the people of
these lower towns continued their depredations, against the wishes
of the upper Cherokees; and it was impossible to induce the national
government to take the decided steps which these bold pioneers knew
were so absolutely necessary to check the marauding spirit of the
lower Cherokee towns. These towns were far down the Tennessee, in
the midst of mountain fastnesses, which the foot of white man had
never trod. They felt secure from all aggression, and reposed in full
confidence that whoever might suffer on account of their incursions
into Cumberland, their towns were unapproachable.
At this time Joseph Brown was living near Nashville with his mother,
and had recently gone with Gen. Robertson to attend an Indian council
at Tellico block-house. The intimate knowledge young Brown had obtained
of these lower towns and their people by his residence there, enabled
him to communicate a good idea of the country and the people from
whom the Cumberland settlements had so long suffered. The death of
Kiachatalee at Buchanan’s Station, on the 30th September, 1792, his
warlike character, so well known to Brown, and his leadership as a
warrior among the men of Nickajack and Running Water, all pointed out
these towns as the hives from which came forth such swarms of marauding
Indians.
Despairing of succor from the national government, Gen. Robertson
wrote to Col. Whitley, of Kentucky, who was a well-known partisan, to
be at Nashville about the 1st September, 1794, with as many trusty
riflemen as he could bring with him. About the same time Col. Mansco,
Gen. Johnson of Robertson, Col. Montgomery of Clarksville, and Gen.
Robertson, each quietly raised a few trusty men. Maj. Ore at that time
commanded a squadron of mounted men, who were in the employ of the
United States as rangers, to protect the frontiers of Cumberland. At
the request of Gen. Robertson, Maj. Ore arrived at Buchanan’s Station
just in time to join the expedition.
In the meantime, boats were made of hides, and tried in the Cumberland
river, to ascertain their capability of transporting the troops across
the Tennessee. These boats were made each of two raw hides, as large as
could be got, sewed together, and each was found capable of carrying
about fifty guns, and one or two men. They were capable of being rolled
up and packed on mules or horses, and could in a few moments be fully
equipped and launched.
All the parties being assembled, it was ascertained that there were
about six hundred, including Maj. Ore’s Rangers. As all but his command
were volunteers, who came out without any authority, it was resolved
to give Ore the nominal command of the whole party, which would give
color of authority to the party to make the campaign, and would save
them from the odium of making a lawless invasion of the Indian country.
Col. Whitley and Col. Mansco were, however, the prime movers of the
campaign, and had most of the responsibility of its conduct. With the
troops were more than a dozen leading partisan officers, who had been
distinguished in many an Indian battle.
On the 7th September, 1794, this formidable army of invasion set out
for Nickajack; and although the route had been unexplored, and the
mountains and river lay between them and their enemies, they had
counted the cost, fitted out their boats, and had resolved to strike a
blow that would teach the lawless Indians a severe lesson.
The troops made a forced march, reached the Tennessee river just after
dark on the fourth day, and in thirty minutes had their rawhide boats
afloat in the river, ready to bear over the arms. They immediately
began to cross the river, landing a short distance below the town of
Nickajack. Most of the men swam over in perfect silence, their arms and
clothes being conveyed in the boats, and on rafts rudely constructed
of bundles of canes. In order to guide the swimmers, a very small fire
was kindled at the water’s edge, by the party which first crossed. Out
of six hundred, only two hundred and thirty could be induced to cross
over; some holding back because they could not swim, and others because
they were subject to the cramp; while others, no doubt, reflecting
upon the number of the enemy, and the difficulty of a retreat when
once across so wide a river, did not feel quite willing “to stand the
hazard of the die.” But in the face of appalling dangers, some men
showed a stout-heartedness which might have done honor to the bravest
of the brave. A young man by the name of Joseph B. Porter, who could
not swim at all, tied an armful of dry canes together, and nothing
daunted, plunged into the rapid river, and kicked himself over in
safety. Young Brown, although still lame in one arm, from the wound he
had received in the Indian ambuscade, plunged into the river, and swam
safely over. At daylight there were two hundred and thirty on the south
bank of the Tennessee, within half a mile of Nickajack, and yet they
were undiscovered. Leaving Brown, with twenty picked men, to guard the
crossing of the creek, at the lower end of the town, with instructions
to meet them in the centre of the town as soon as he heard their fire,
the main body turned towards the town, and came down upon it from above.
Although Nickajack contained about three hundred warriors, they were
so completely surprised that they made little resistance; but flying
precipitately, took to their canoes, and attempted to cross the river.
Some fled to Running Water, and others secreted themselves in the
thickets. The whole town ran with blood. About seventy warriors were
slain, and a large number of women and children were taken prisoners.
Young Brown carried the lower end of the town manfully, killing several
warriors, and taking some prisoners. In one instance, he killed an
Indian warrior in single combat, and carried away his scalp.
As soon as Nickajack was taken, a detachment was sent to destroy
Running Water. On the way, the Indians met them, and after an obstinate
resistance, gave way, but not till they had wounded three Americans,
one of them, Joshua Thomas, mortally. Running Water was also taken,
and both towns immediately reduced to ashes. Among the dead, Brown
recognized the body of Breath, the generous chief who had adopted him
into his family when he was a prisoner. In the towns, many articles of
stolen property, which were recognized as belonging to men who had been
killed in Cumberland Valley, were found. In addition to these, fresh
scalps were found in Nickajack, as well as a number of letters, taken
by the Indians from the mail-bags, after having killed the rider. They
also found a quantity of powder and lead, recently sent by the Spanish
government to these Indians.
Never was a visitation of this kind so justly merited as it was
by these towns. They were the principal crossing-places for the
war-parties of Creeks, Shawnees, and Cherokees, who went to harass
the Cumberland and Kentucky settlements. But two days before their
destruction, a war dance was held there, at which were several Cherokee
chiefs, as well as Creeks, who had resolved to wage a still more
relentless war on the frontiers.
While Brown could not but feel that the hand of Providence had signally
punished these towns for their outrage on his family, his exultation
was prevented by the death of his brother-in-law, Joshua Thomas, a
brave soldier and a kind, generous friend, who was the only one slain
by the enemy on this occasion.
The prisoners recognized young Brown, and alarmed for their safety,
pleaded with him to save their lives, saying that his life had once
been spared by them. He assured them that they were in no danger; that
the white people never killed prisoners, women and children.