warriors under White Loon, Stone Eater, and Winnemac. The Prophet
had mixed a mysterious broth at a meeting of the Indians the night
before, and had told his followers that one-half of Harrison's army
was composed of dead men, and that the other half was made up of crazy
soldiers. Encouraged by this, the Indians had begun to creep across the
prairie in the direction of the American camp at four in the morning.
The Prophet had also stated that the bullets of the Americans would
rebound from the bodies of the red men, but this did not prove to be
the case, for, as the mixed bands of warriors came onward, they were
shot down by scores. Still, they attacked with terrible fury, and,
armed with excellent short rifles which had been furnished them by
the Indian traders, they did a great deal of damage to the American
line. Soon the entire camp was surrounded by the redskins, who rushed
forward with tremendous ferocity, and, where the soldiers formed hollow
squares with their bayonets outward, the braves would throw themselves
vindictively upon them and endeavor to knock them over with their
tomahawks.
The only coward on the side of the Indians was the famous Prophet.
While his followers were struggling desperately with the frontiersmen,
he stood upon a small hill, well out of harm's way, and cried out
encouragement to the Indians in a shrill and piercing voice. "Fight
on, O my people," he kept repeating, "for it shall be as the Prophet
has said. You will crush these white enemies." The sounds of his
wailing could easily be heard by Harrison's men, and, although some
of his warriors requested him to join them in battle, he did not seem
as anxious to appear on the firing line as they had expected. His
followers, on the other hand, fought most courageously, and threw
themselves with desperation upon the unyielding American line. Harrison
rode up and down among his men, cheering them on, and crying to
them not to give in to the assaults of the redskins, and, although
he usually mounted a white horse, in the confusion of the morning,
he had seized one of another color. This probably saved his life, as
the Indians knew that his usual mount was white and soon killed his
own animal which a young lieutenant was riding. The rider also fell,
pierced by a dozen well-directed bullets.
While the yells of the Indians were intermingled with the hoarse
shouts of the rangers, the rattle of deer's hoofs was heard above the
din, and, at this savage signal, the redskins retreated beyond rifle
range. But they were not yet defeated, and soon formed for another
onslaught, while the white soldiers re-arranged their own line, fixed
bayonets, and reloaded, in anticipation of a second charge. "Give the
redskins a dose of lead, first," commanded Harrison, "then at 'em with
the bayonets. But keep in touch all along the line, and do not allow
yourselves to get split up into small parties, which the red devils can
surround!" His counsel was well heeded.
In a few moments the followers of the Prophet again rushed from the
underbrush upon the extended line of the American rangers, and,
although the savages had now departed from their usual custom of
fighting behind cover, this was to do them no good. As they ran
desperately against the now well-prepared men in buckskin, they were
met with a murderous fire, for day was well advanced, and the white
soldiers could see their gun sights. The roar from the rifles was
continuous. The redskins fell to earth upon every side. Shrieks and
groans of the wounded and dying men were intermingled with the coarse
shouts of battle, as the forms of Indians and whites struggled and
fell, locked in a deadly embrace beneath a cloud of drifting smoke,
which hung above the battle ground.
But now the moment came for an advance of the buckskin-clad rangers.
As at Waterloo when Wellington cried: "Up guards and at 'em!" Harrison
called: "On, men! Give them the bayonet, and no quarter!" With a wild
yell of enthusiasm the rangers started forward and ploughed into the
masses of the redskins with a will. With sharp bayonet thrusts they cut
down all who opposed them, for they struck out savagely, and hacked
away like Cromwell's Ironsides. Nothing could stand up against such an
onrush. The Indians wilted. They gave in. They turned. They ran. And
the first to skip headlong across the yellow prairie was the far-famed
Prophet, whose courage had oozed from him like water through a sieve.
His prophecies had all gone wrong; his incantations had been worthless,
and his influence among the red men had forever parted.
Harrison now pressed on to Prophet's Town, and found it absolutely
deserted, for the Indians had decided to abandon everything, and had
left behind their corn, chickens, hogs, household furniture, and
firearms. As the rangers swept onward, thirty-seven of their own
numbers lay dead upon the famous field of Tippecanoe, while one hundred
and thirty-seven wounded limped to the carts in their rear. The redskin
loss was never known, but it must have been much larger than that of
the whites. Flushed with victory, the Americans soon destroyed the
Indian village, and then returned to Vincennes, well satisfied with
such a complete victory. Harrison, himself, had won the admiration of
his countrymen; so much so, that thirty years later he was elected
President of the United States, mainly because of the fame which he
won in this frontier battle. The campaign slogan of "Tippecanoe (as
Harrison was called) and Tyler, too," swept over the country like
fire, and roused an enthusiasm for the brave leader which has seldom
been equalled. It resulted in his election to the position of Chief
Executive by a magnificent majority.
Tecumseh had been away at the time of the battle, and, when he heard of
the defeat of his own people, he was furious with rage. Hastening to
Prophet's Town, he found only ashes and desolation where once had been
stores, ammunition, arms, and houses. Filled with mortification and
anger, he searched for his brother, the Prophet, and when he found him,
shook him by the hair, so great was his resentment; for he had told the
Indians to fight no battle during his absence. The Prophet was ever
afterwards an object of contempt, and, as he would walk through the
Indian village, the boys would yell and jeer at him, while the braves
would turn their backs when they saw him coming.
Tecumseh wrote to General Harrison that he now desired to go to
Washington and visit the Great Father, a request that was granted him.
But he was told that he must go alone, and without a retinue; an answer
which wounded the spirit of the proud savage so deeply that, when war
broke out between the British and Americans a few years later (the War
of 1812), he joined the English army in Canada, saying: "I have taken
sides with my father, the King, and I will suffer my bones to bleach
upon the shore of the great lakes, before I will recross the American
territory to take part in any council of neutrality."
In the fighting of the War of 1812 this great chief showed that he
could lead an army almost as well as a white man. His military talent
was so great that he was made a Brigadier General, a position which,
to my knowledge, no other American Indian has ever held among white
troops, except General Ely S. Parker, who commanded a detachment of
regulars in the Army of the Potomac during the War of the Rebellion.
The celebrated Shawnee fought bravely at a fierce fight at Brownstown,
and was also at the siege of Detroit, with about seven hundred
warriors, when this city capitulated to the British. The whole American
frontier was open to the ravages of the Indians and English after this
event, and under General Proctor, the combined forces of redskins and
redcoats swept down upon the border fortress of Fort Meigs, and here
captured a number of prisoners, although they did not take the stockade.
The Indians under Tecumseh numbered about eighteen hundred in the
fighting at this place, and, giving way to their instincts, they
tomahawked all that they could. General Proctor made no attempt to
stop them, but was looking calmly at their fiendish work, when he
saw Tecumseh galloping forward at great speed. Reaching the scene of
slaughter, the savage leaped from his horse, and seizing two Indians
by the throat, knocked them to the ground. Then, drawing his tomahawk
and scalping knife, he cried out: "He of you who injures another
prisoner will be killed by Tecumseh. How dare you wreak vengeance upon
defenseless men? Cowards! Begone!" Cowed by his consuming wrath, the
savages slunk away, while the great chief, turning to Proctor, said:
"Why, General, did you not stop this awful massacre?"
"Sir," replied the British General, "your Indians cannot be restrained."
"Begone!" thundered Tecumseh. "You are not fit to command! Go home and
put on the petticoat of a squaw."
Shortly after this the celebrated Shawnee noticed a small group of
Indians near by, who were standing about some prisoners. "Yonder are
four of your people who have been taken prisoners," said Colonel Elliot
to him. "You may do as you please with them." Tecumseh, therefore,
walked over to the group and found four Shawnees, who, while fighting
on the side of the Americans, had been unable to escape the British
regulars, and had been captured. "Friends," said he, "Colonel Elliot
has placed you in my charge, and I will send you back to your nation
to have a talk with your people." So saying, he took them with him for
some distance, and then sent two of his warriors to accompany them to
their own chiefs, where they were discharged, under the promise that
they would never fight again against the British during the war.
The disasters to the Americans led the Government to collect a larger
army, which was placed under the command of General Harrison, the hero
of Tippecanoe. Captain Oliver H. Perry built a fleet on Lake Erie,
sailed out to attack the British boats, and defeated them. When he
had done so, Harrison moved upon Fort Malden, where both Proctor and
Tecumseh were stationed. The former burned the fort and retreated
with Tecumseh's Indians, meaning to join the other British forces at
Niagara, but before the retreat (when Harrison was at Fort Meigs)
Tecumseh had sent him a personal challenge, which ran:
"GENERAL HARRISON: I have with me eight hundred braves. You have
an equal number in your hiding place. Come out with them and give
me battle. You talked like a brave when we met at Vincennes, and
I respected you, but now you hide behind logs, and in earth, like
a groundhog. Give me answer!
TECUMSEH."
Harrison, however, refused to come out, and, as Proctor decided to
retreat, Tecumseh seriously meditated a withdrawal from the contest.
"You always told us that you would never draw your foot off British
ground," said he to the English commander. "Now, father, we see that
you are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing so
without seeing the enemy. We must compare our Father's conduct to a fat
dog which carries its tail on its back, but, when affrighted, drops it
between its legs and runs off. Father, listen! The Americans have not
yet defeated us by land, neither are we sure that they have done so by
water; we, therefore, wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should
he make his appearance. If we are defeated, we will then retreat with
our father.
"Father, you have got the arms and ammunition which our great father
sent to his red children. If you have an idea of going away, give them
to us and you may go, and welcome. For us, our lives are in the hand of
the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our land, and if it be
his will, we wish to leave our bones upon them."
But Proctor would listen to no such talk, and pretended, from time to
time, that he would halt and give battle. Much to the chagrin of the
redskins, he kept on moving. Finally he halted on the river Thames, in
Michigan, near a Moravian town, and told Tecumseh that he would here
fight it out with the advancing Americans. The great chief, himself,
chose the ground for battling, with a marsh on one flank and a stream
upon the other. "Brother warriors," said he to his chiefs, "we are
about to enter an engagement from which I shall, doubtless, never
return; my body will remain upon the field of battle." Then unbuckling
his sword, he handed it to a chief, remarking: "When my son becomes a
noted warrior, and able to wield a sword, give this to him."
Proctor had planted his guns in the highway and had deployed his
regulars between them and a little marsh. Another marsh was five
hundred yards further on, to the right, and here the Indians under
Tecumseh were stationed, together with some British regulars. The
rest of the Indians were sent out in front, upon the extreme right,
in a position just in front of the swampy bottom of the larger marsh.
The ground was nearly covered with an open growth of trees, without
underbrush, so that there was little impediment to fighting. Harrison,
as he came up, placed his mounted infantry in front, for this was his
strongest force, composed of a splendid body of Kentucky frontiersmen
under Colonel Richard M. Johnson, all of whom were well used to border
warfare. The infantry was in the rear, with a considerable body on
the left flank, turned at right angle to the line, so as to face the
Indians in the marsh. They were told to advance at the blast of the
bugle and to fight as they had done at Tippecanoe--commands which they
obeyed quite faithfully. At the shrill note of the horn the horsemen
trotted forward. Then, as the British regulars began to pepper them
with bullets, they gave a wild cheer, galloped on, and soon were
charging right into the lines of the English.
[Illustration: DEATH OF TECUMSEH.]
Proctor knew that he was badly wanted by the Americans, because of
his numerous massacres of defenseless non-combatants, and so leaped
into a two-horse vehicle in order to escape. But a dozen well-mounted
men galloped after him, and seeing that he was about to be captured,
the faint-hearted Britisher jumped to the earth, took to the woods,
and got safely off. Tecumseh's men, meanwhile, stood their ground and
did not, at first, give way before the American advance. But soon the
savages posted upon the extreme right before the marsh ran wildly into
the woods. The valiant Tecumseh was shot in the arm, but, disdaining
to fly, stood up manfully, while his wild, inspiring war whoop was
loudly heard above the din of battle. Thus he was holding his own men
to their work, when the Kentucky cavalry, having dispersed Proctor's
regulars, returned to the field of battle. Forming for the attack,
they rushed, with a wild cheer, upon the mixed battalion of reds and
whites. Johnson, himself, was soon near the great chief and shot at him
with his pistol. Tecumseh fell, whether from this shot, or not, is not
definitely known. The tide of conflict rolled by the prostrate form of
the mighty Shawnee, and, with fierce cheers of victory, the Americans
chased the now routed British and Indians into the forest, securing a
complete and overwhelming victory.
Near the battlefield, where a large oak lay prostrate by a willow
marsh, the faithful Shawnees buried Tecumseh, after the American army,
flushed with success, returned to the United States. The British
Government granted a pension to the widow of the noted warrior, and
to his son gave a sword. The willows and rose-bushes now grow thick
above the mound where repose, in silence and solitude, the ashes of
the mighty chief of the Shawnees. He struggled in vain against the
inevitable, and his simple grave is only one of the many monuments
which mark the restless, overwhelming advance of the conquering
Americans. He fought a good fight. His fame is secure upon the golden
pages of history.
WEATHERFORD:
THE CREEK CONSPIRATOR AND FEARLESS FIGHTER
Among the tribes who swore allegiance to Tecumseh, none were more
powerful than the Creeks, who occupied a vast stretch of country in the
present states of Alabama and Tennessee. These Indians continued their
warfare against the whites, long after the death of the famous leader
of the Shawnees, and, under the guidance of Weatherford, did great
damage to the white pioneers of this part of the country. Weatherford
was an extremely handsome savage of fine face and figure. He was
possessed of great physical strength and dauntless courage, but he was
treacherous and merciless to those who fell into his clutches, and was
never known to give quarter to a fallen enemy. For this reason he was
hated and despised by the backwoodsmen and pioneers of the Mississippi
Territory.
The Creeks began their depredations upon the frontier at the same time
that Tecumseh's warriors were fighting against Harrison, and soon the
whites of the southern country were forced to fly to the forts and
stockades for protection. The Southwestern militia was called out to
repel the attacks of the savages, and, under Governor Claiborne, about
two hundred volunteers took station in a strong stockade called Fort
Mimms, situated on Lake Tensas, Alabama, and crowded with refugees. A
Major Beasley was placed in charge of these soldiers, while Claiborne
left for the interior of the state in order to raise more troops.
"Respect your enemy, and be always ready to meet him," said he to
Major Beasley, when he was about to depart. "The Indians are crafty,
and one never knows when they are to debouch from the dark recesses of
the forest. Be continually upon your guard, and do not fail to have
sentries at all times upon watch."
"I promise you that I will use every caution against attack," Beasley
replied. "Do not fear, it will be impossible for the Indians to enter
our stockade."
"Very good," the Governor answered, as he turned to go. "I will be
at Fort Early, the next stockade, when the Indians advance, be sure
and dispatch a runner to me so that I can send you reinforcements, if
attacked." So saying, he turned on his heel and soon had mounted his
horse.
Not many days later, a negro, who had been sent to a planter's house
for a supply of corn, came running into Fort Mimms in great agitation.
"De Injuns am comin'," he wailed. "De red men done took a feller dat
was wid me an' kill him. O Lawzy, Lawzy. I'se been runnin' lak er
rabbit!"
But Major Beasley scoffed at the news. "I don't believe you, Sambo,"
said he. "For several of my own men have been out scouting and have
reported no sign of Indians."
A few days after this, three negroes, while looking for cattle which
had strayed from the fort, suddenly ran upon a large body of savages
in the woods. Hastily returning to the stockade, they reported the
matter, with much fear and trembling. "I will send out scouts at once,"
said the commandant of the fort, "and will see if these reports are
true." So a dozen rangers were immediately dispatched into the forest
to discover signs of the Indians. They remained away for a day, and,
upon their return, stated that they had seen no trace of the Creeks,
and that they believed that the negro had told an untruth. Consequently
he was flogged--an act of injustice which was to injure the white
refugees in Fort Mimms more than they expected, or imagined.
Upon the following Monday this same negro was driving some cattle to
pasture, when he saw several Indians in a cleared space, who were
watching him carefully, as if it was their intention to capture him
when he advanced near their position. Consequently he ran back to
Fort Mimms in a great state of agitation, leaving his cattle to the
tomahawks of the red men. But he did not report the near approach of
the Indians, as he feared another thrashing, and so, when the shrill
warwhoops of the savages soon echoed from the forest, the inhabitants
of the stockade were totally unprepared to meet the assault of the red
men. To the number of fifteen hundred they suddenly debouched from
the fringe of forest near the fort, and made a dash for the palisade.
Weatherford was in command, and, from a position slightly in the rear
of the line, directed the operations of his men.
It was a hot day in August. The guard before the doorway of the fort
had been relaxed, and the soldiers lolled indolently in the shade of
some trees. The heavy gates were wide open. The garrison was scattered
about the enclosure, little expecting an onslaught from without, while
several small children were picking wild flowers near the edge of the
forest. Major Beasley, himself, was occupied in one of the buildings,
when loud yells and rifle shots warned him of an Indian attack. Rushing
into the open, he saw, to his dismay, that the Creeks had entered
the stockade through the gates which had been negligently standing
ajar, and, although several men in buckskin had endeavored to close
them, the onrush of the Indians swept all before them. In a moment
the frontiersmen and savages were engaged in a desperate struggle.
The whites, realizing that it was a death grapple, vainly strove to
keep the followers of Weatherford from penetrating the stockade, and,
although there were nearly three hundred men opposed to the redskins,
it was soon evident that they could scarcely hold their own against the
furious attack of the Creek warriors. Every officer of the American
troops was killed in his tracks. Yet the remaining frontier fighters
were unable to drive the Indians from the entrance, and, in spite of
their well-aimed rifle shots, the savages gradually won their way
into the stockade. A Lieutenant, badly wounded, was carried into a
blockhouse by two of the women, but he insisted upon being taken back
into the fight, and was soon again in the thick of the mêlée, where he
was shot through the body by an arrow and killed.
It was now about eleven o'clock. So many of the whites had been killed
that the rest had to seek safety in one of the blockhouses, where,
with both doors and windows barricaded, they endeavored to make a last
resistance to the yelping Creeks. The women and children were first
huddled in the centre of the building, but soon some of the women took
up muskets and aided the soldiers in the defense of this last resort.
The fighting was most furious at this moment, and, with a heavy bar,
the Creeks endeavored to break down the doorway. Some others rolled
lighted faggots against the sides of the building, and, taking fire,
the miserable whites were burned to cinders. Seventeen members of the
garrison broke through the line of yelping Indians and escaped, while
Major Beasley, himself, was consumed by the burning embers. When night
fell, all was ruin and desolation, where once had stood the strong and
presumably unpenetrable fortress of the frontier, while the shrill
wailing of the Indian women sounded loud above the crackling of the
burning stockade which Weatherford ordered to be set on fire.
When the news of this frightful massacre at Fort Mimms reached the
interior, the white settlers were roused to indescribable wrath against
the Creek warriors. Steps were immediately taken to guard against a
further advance of the Indians, and the sum of $300,000 was donated by
the state of Tennessee for raising and equipping a number of troops
to repel the invaders and, if possible, to cripple their operations.
Five thousand rangers were soon collected on the frontier, and their
leadership given to a then undistinguished soldier, called Andrew
Jackson, who was later to become President of the United States,
because of the very qualities of dauntless courage which he was to
exhibit in the trying Indian campaign before him. He had not yet fully
recovered from a severe wound received in a duel with pistols, but,
although badly crippled, he had sufficient strength to give personal
attention to the drill and discipline of the splendid body of Indian
fighters under his command. Colonel Coffee, Davy Crockett, and Sam
Houston, all famous frontiersmen, were among his soldiers, and,
although thoroughly untrained in the European method of warfare, they
were well able to handle a body of Indians of twice their strength.