his own territory, where his followers had towns and resources. Some
Georgian troops, under Colonel Coffee, marched against him, but,
learning that Jackson was coming up, waited for him at Ditto's Landing,
on the Tennessee. Here many of the white troops rebelled, as there was
not a sufficiency of food, but, brought to terms by the conduct and
oratory of the indomitable Jackson, they consented to a further advance
into the territory held by the warlike Creeks.
Learning of the advance of this formidable body of rangers, many of the
Creeks, including Chief Chinnaboy, gave themselves up to the whites and
swore allegiance to them. An Indian runner hastened to Weatherford,
urging him to capitulate without a struggle, but to this the chief
replied:
"I will never give in as long as I have ten men to fight behind me. You
can tell Chinnaboy that he is a traitorous coward, and that, if I meet
him, I will deal with him in the same manner that I would with one of
my white enemies."
The wily Creek leader also exhibited traits of excellent generalship,
for, when the combined forces of Coffee and Jackson reached the
vicinity of his encampment at Ten Islands, he ordered a retreat of his
followers to a well-fortified town at Tallushatches (now Jacksonville,
Alabama), on the Southern shore of the Coosa River. Jackson's men were
suffering still from lack of provisions and many were mutinous, but the
remarkable leader kept them at work with promises of future pay and
honors, and, when news was brought that a large force of Creeks was
besieging a friendly chief called Path Killer, he divided his army. A
portion, under Colonel Coffee, was sent to attack Tallushatches, while
the rest were dispatched to the assistance of Path Killer.
Colonel Coffee had only nine hundred men with him, and sent forward
only a few of his soldiers to attack the Indian stockade and then
to retreat. He thus hoped to entice the red men from their strong
position, and his plan was entirely successful. After making a vigorous
advance against the Creeks, his soldiers began to fall back, and then
to run away. The Indians hotly pursued, thinking that they had the
white men at their mercy. But this is exactly what Coffee wished them
to do. His greater force was lying in ambuscade, and, as the painted
warriors rushed, yelping, after his flying column, his other soldiers
poured vigorous broadsides into their ranks.
Dismayed and terrified, the followers of Weatherford now turned to
retreat, but the Americans surrounded them entirely. Then ensued a
sanguinary, hand-to-hand encounter. Some of the red warriors broke
through the surrounding line and ran back to their village, where they
hid in the tepees. As long as they had power to move a limb, they
fought like tigers at bay. But the white troops soon overcame all
resistance, and killed all of those who had, such a short time before,
rushed victoriously against them. Five of the Americans only were
killed, and forty-one were wounded, while about two hundred Indians
were put to death.
Weatherford was not with this division of his forces, but, with a
more powerful contingent, was besieging the friendly Path Killer at
Fort Talladega. Jackson hurried to the relief of this place, and,
because of very swift marching, arrived there much sooner than the
Creeks had expected. But Weatherford was not taken by surprise, and
hurled his warriors against the militia with such fury that they gave
away. Jackson quickly brought up some mounted rangers, who charged
the oncoming redskins with a will. In spite of Weatherford's example
and exhortations, his red warriors now broke and ran. Three miles
off was a range of densely wooded mountains, and to this the Creeks
hastened as fast as their nimble limbs would carry them, while the
Americans followed in hot pursuit. Fully a thousand savages fell before
the onrush of the men in fringed buckskin, while but fifteen of the
American riflemen were killed.
As the Creeks, weary and disgruntled, rested in the security of the
mountains, a warrior approached Weatherford, and said:
"Great Chief, I see that we can do nothing against these whites. They
will conquer us, no matter how long we resist. I, for one, am going to
give myself up. As for you, you can continue the war if you so will,
but it will be useless."
"Coward," shouted the Creek leader in great wrath. "I will have your
blood for such treachery!" And with no more words, he struck the red
man down with his hatchet.
With Jackson things were also going ill. His men grew so ill-humored
with starvation that many revolted, and there was danger of the
expedition being abandoned. One day, a starving soldier saw the General
sitting under a tree, eating something, and going to him, said:
"General Jackson, I can stand this no longer. If you cannot furnish me
with bread, I will go home, and many others with me. Men, sir, cannot
fight on empty stomachs."
Jackson looked carefully at him before answering.
"You see that I am eating," said he. "I am always ready to divide with
a hungry man. Here, take half of my supply of nourishment."
So saying, he reached in his pocket and extracted a handful of acorns.
"Thank you, General," replied the soldier. "If you can fight on such a
diet, certainly I, myself, can." And so saying, he walked off humming a
tune. The example of "Old Hickory" (as Jackson was nicknamed) was all
that allayed mutiny and dispersal among the men.
Weatherford now collected a large force upon an island in the
Tallapoosa River, near the mouth of Emuckfau Creek, and, in this
densely wooded and swampy country, waited for the Americans to advance
upon him. Fierce and vindictive in his hatred for the superior race, he
determined to fight to the last ditch rather than to capitulate to the
men under Jackson, Coffee, and Floyd, who headed the Georgia militia.
Here he had built a rude stockade, and, confident in his ability to
withstand an attack, waited for developments.
On the seventeenth of January, Jackson, with nearly one thousand men,
marched for the centre of the Indian country, reinforced by Fife, a
noted chief, with about two hundred red warriors. As his soldiers
pushed through the rough country in the direction of Weatherford's
army, scouts from the latter's forces warned the crafty chieftain
of the approach of the white troops. In the early morning of the
twenty-second of January, the left flank of the rangers was furiously
attacked by Weatherford's advance guard. Turning upon them, the men
under Old Hickory soon were engaged in a furious battle. The underbrush
and saplings impeded good fighting, as they afforded good cover to the
redskins, but in spite of this, the buckskin rangers did as much damage
as the savages. In a half hour's time the Creeks were routed, but, as
the Americans rested and re-arranged their line, the Indians returned
to the fray. Led on by Weatherford, in person, they did great damage
until finally driven off by a bayonet charge. As the whites withdrew,
because of a shortness in their provisions, the Indians claimed this as
a victory.
But Jackson only drew off to prepare for another advance, while the
Creeks determined to make a last stand at the Great Horseshoe Bend
of the Tallapoosa River, in the state of Alabama. Weatherford had a
thousand warriors still left, although many had been killed in the
recent fighting with Old Hickory. He had caused a well-fortified camp
to be erected, which was built with such skill that it could only be
carried by a direct assault. "We have been defeated many times," said
he to his warriors, "but now we _must_ win a battle. If the whites
again defeat us, we shall be lost."
Jackson was now determined to crush the Indians with an overwhelming
blow. Consequently, on March 27th he reached the neighborhood of
the Creeks' fortifications, with a large and well-equipped army of
frontiersmen and friendly Indians. The rangers had all been under fire;
many of them had lost friends and relatives in the massacre at Fort
Mimms; and thus there was a strong spirit of revenge among them. As
they crept silently through the forest they marched in single file,
and gave the impression of a huge earthworm, wriggling through the
dense undergrowth. Quietly and without noise, the friendly Indians and
mounted rangers were sent across the river below the Indian encampment,
so as to cut off the retreat of the red men; while a small body of
expert riflemen was sent forward to set fire to several buildings. As
these crackled and burned in the early morning light, the remaining
troops opened fire upon the breastworks, behind which the Creek
warriors were hiding.
For five hours the fighting raged. At first it seemed impossible to
get into the camp of Weatherford's adherents, but eventually a number
of the Tennessee rangers managed to climb over the fallen logs and
timber, and to grapple single handed with the hostiles. With a rousing
cheer the rest of the rangers now rushed over the barricade, driving
many of the Creeks behind their houses. A desperate struggle now took
place, but, seeing that they were about to be surrounded, many of
the Creeks, including Weatherford, made a wild dash for freedom. Six
hundred redskins were soon killed, while over two hundred captives,
including women and children, were marched to the rear under a strong
guard. At nightfall the pursuit of the Creeks was abandoned, and
the battle of Tohopeka, or the Great Horseshoe Bend, was over. The
Creeks had suffered such an overwhelming defeat that their spirit of
resistance was absolutely crushed.
Weatherford escaped into the forest, and nothing was heard of him.
Hundreds of his followers came to Jackson's camp and gave themselves
up in the week following their defeat at Horseshoe Bend, for they
realized that further resistance would be impossible. "I will accept
your capitulation only on one condition," said Jackson to some of the
Creek refugees. "And that is that you deliver Weatherford to me, bound
by deer thongs. You must also allow me to do with him as I see fit. I
know that you wish for peace, but I cannot guarantee it to you until
your leader is in my hands. He is an evil man, and I do not know when
he will again raise an insurrection."
Deep in the tangled forest, word was brought to Weatherford of the wish
of Old Hickory.
"I will never submit to being bound," cried the Creek chieftain, "but
I will surrender myself of my own free will, if this is the only way
in which peace can be assured. Were you people not cowards, I could yet
defeat this boasting General Jackson."
Not long afterwards the American commander was sitting in his tent,
dictating some dispatches, when a tall and stately Indian suddenly
stalked inside. As Jackson, in amazement, gazed at him, the intruder
said:
"I am Weatherford, the chief who led the attack upon Fort Mimms. I have
come to ask for peace for my people, who desire it."
Jackson looked at him with no cheerful gaze. "I am surprised," said
he, "that you should come into my presence, for I know of your inhuman
conduct at Fort Mimms, for which you deserve death. I ordered that you
should be brought to me bound, and should you have been brought to me
in that manner, I should have known how to treat you."
Weatherford smiled. "I am in your power," said he. "You can do with me
as you please, for I am a soldier. I have done the whites all the harm
that I could. I have fought them and have fought them bravely. If I had
an army, I would yet fight; I would contend to the last; but I have
none. My people are all gone. I can only weep over the misfortunes of
my nation."
Old Hickory was himself a brave man, and could not help admiring
the boldness of this handsome Indian chieftain. A smile lighted his
countenance, as he said:
"I will take no advantage of you; you may yet raise a war party and
fight us. But if you are captured, you shall receive no quarter.
Unconditional surrender is the only safe measure for you and your
people."
Weatherford drew himself up in a dignified manner, and replied:
"You can now safely address me in such terms. There was a time when I
could have answered you; there was a time when I had a choice; I have
none now. I have not even a hope. I could once animate my warriors to
battle, but I cannot animate the dead. My warriors can no longer hear
my voice. Their bones are at Talladega, Tallushatches, Emuckfau, and
Tohopeka. I have not surrendered myself without thought. While there
was a single chance for success, I never left my post nor supplicated
for peace. But my people are gone, and I now ask it for my nation,
not for myself. I look back with deep sorrow, and wish to avert still
greater calamities. If I had been left only to contend with the army
from Georgia, I would have raised my corn on one bank of the river, and
fought them on the other. But your people have destroyed my nation. You
are a brave man. I rely upon your generosity. You will exact no terms
of a conquered people but such as they should accede to. Whatever they
may be, it would now be madness and folly to oppose them. If they are
opposed, you shall find me among the sternest enforcers of obedience.
Those who would still hold out can be influenced only by a mean spirit
of revenge. To this they must not, and shall not sacrifice the last
remnant of their country. You have told our nation where we might go
and be safe. This is good talk, and they ought to listen to it. They
_shall_ listen to it."
"Go," answered Jackson, "if you so will. I shall not hinder you. But,
if you rouse further strife, beware of me and my men. We shall deal
with you, next time, with no careful hand."
The great leader of the Creeks thus departed, as proudly arrogant as he
had come, and soon his form was lost in the shadows of the forest.
BLACK HAWK: CHIEF OF THE SACS AND FOXES
AND LEADER OF THE BLACK HAWK REBELLION
Step by step the whites were fighting their way across the country,
and in 1832 had frontier settlements in the territory between the
Illinois and the Mississippi rivers. The Sacs and the Foxes here had
their towns, their principal leader being Black Hawk, a man of splendid
physique and noble bearing. He was not only a warrior, but was also
an orator of distinction and ability, many of his speeches possessing
a poetical eloquence which is remarkable. Personally he was a brave
man, but he showed no special generalship in handling his forces, and,
although at first successful in attacking the whites, he soon was
overwhelmed by the superior ability and prowess of the men of another
race.
In 1830 the Sacs and Foxes, through a chief named Keokuk as negotiator,
sold much of their land to the United States and agreed to move to the
west of the Mississippi. Black Hawk was not consulted in this matter,
and became very indignant when he learned what had transpired. Finding
that a considerable number of Indians were dissatisfied with the
treaty, he offered to place himself at their head and to rebel against
Keokuk. But open rebellion did not occur, because of difficulties with
the whites, which soon turned the vindictive spirit of Black Hawk
against them, and not against the men of his own race. The act which
led to hostilities was peculiar.
One of the Sacs found a beehive in a hollow tree, and carried it to his
wigwam. Some of the white squatters claimed that it was theirs and made
the Indian give it up. But not content with this, they now plundered
the savage's wigwam of all the skins which he had collected by hunting
in the winter. When the Indian protested, they laughed at him, and
thus ill-blood was aroused between the whites and the redskins, which
finally culminated in open warfare. "We must have war," said Black Hawk
in the council chamber, "or else we shall be driven into the far West,
without lands, horses, or shelter. Those of you who are cowards may
follow Keokuk, but those of you who wish to maintain your own against
the aggressions of these whites, must take up your tomahawks with me."
An old residence of the tribe was the Sac village, situated upon a
point of land at the confluence of the Mississippi and Rock Rivers,
which had been occupied by them for over a century and a half. As this
spot was in the limits of the ceded territory, the Americans demanded
the evacuation of the village, but Black Hawk convinced Keokuk that his
cession of land was illegal and made him promise to open a negotiation
with the Americans, and to have the village restored. With this
expectation the Indians still kept possession of the village, until
the autumn of the year 1830, when they went into the deep forests, as
usual, for their winter's hunt after furs. No sooner had they departed
than the whites occupied the tepees and houses in the village, and
when the Indians returned, they found that hundreds of white men and
women were in their own wigwams. These refused to leave, claiming that
the village rightly belonged to them, and so angered the savages by
their obstinacy that the chiefs of the allied tribes of Sacs and Foxes
determined to drive them out by force.
The white settlers were not in sufficient numbers to oppose the
savages, and, realizing their weakness, offered to compromise by living
in company with the tribe. Strange as it may seem, the Indians agreed
to this, but soon regretted their bargain, as the whites appropriated
all the best planting lands, crowded the red men out of their homes,
and at length told them that they must leave the village. Many
complied, but Black Hawk and a number of warriors refused to move; a
fact which led the whites to complain to the Governor of Illinois of
the "encroachments of the Indians, and unfair dealings of the Sacs and
Foxes."
"I will immediately send the militia to your assistance," wrote the
Governor to the complaining citizens. "I furthermore proclaim that
the state has been invaded by foreign enemies. The soldiers are for
the public defense. They will remove the Indians, dead or alive, to
their proper position across the Mississippi River." Seven hundred
militiamen began an immediate advance upon the settlement, but General
Gaines, the commander of the United States troops in that section of
country, foreseeing that this movement would provoke the Indians to
open hostilities, hurried to Rock River in order to mediate between
the soldiers and redskins. He arrived before the Illinois militia had
reached the ground, and, by means of a long harangue, persuaded about a
third of the Indians to peacefully retire across the river. The rest,
including Black Hawk, refused to leave the place, the women imploring
their husbands to fight rather than to abandon their homes.
Seeing that he would have to use his best powers of persuasion, Gaines
held a council with Black Hawk on the seventh of June, and there
argued for peace for over an hour. The savage leader was painted and
armed for battle, and was surrounded by many of his best warriors.
"I am not afraid of the Americans," said he, "and I will not remove
from my rightful possessions. I am fully able to make war against
your soldiers, and to drive them into the sea, if necessary. Let
your men come on. I am ready to receive them." Notwithstanding their
proud boasts, as soon as the militia came up on the twenty-fifth, the
followers of Black Hawk abandoned their position without firing a gun.
Two days later, Black Hawk made his appearance again, with a white
flag, and demanded another parley, after which a treaty was agreed
upon, whereby he and his malcontents relinquished their claim to the
territory under dispute. Satisfied with this turn of affairs, the
militia withdrew.
[Illustration:
Courtesy of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Smithsonian Institute.
BLACK HAWK.]
Peace was to be of short duration, for the Indians still retained
their feelings of exasperation caused by the treatment which they
had received, and the Americans did not live up to the terms of their
treaty. As usual, they scoffed at the requests of the redskins, and
told them that their demands were unjust, when they asked for a supply
of corn which had been promised them. Black Hawk's men grew bold and
surly. Early in 1831 they attacked a band of peaceable Sioux, encamped
near an American fort at Prairie du Chien, and killed twenty-eight.
This exasperated the white settlers, and a demand was made for the
murderers. Black Hawk refused to deliver them up. "This is an affair
between two Indian tribes, independent of the authority of the Great
White Father," said he. "I will not give up my people, because of
this. You can do what you like about it." As the murdered men were,
at the time of the killing, under the protection of the United States
Government, the Indian chief was, of course, in the wrong.
It was now the spring of the year 1832, and Black Hawk had collected
a force of Sacs, Foxes and Winnebagoes amounting to about a thousand
warriors. Crossing the Mississippi, the redskins marched upon the
frontier settlements, burning and scalping with a ruthless hand,
and driving the white inhabitants before them in alarm. Farms were
abandoned; remote settlements were left to their fate; while forts and
stockades were crowded with refugees. The Governor of Illinois ordered
out a brigade of militia, and, under General Atkinson, the soldiers
marched for the scene of hostilities. Regular troops soon joined
with the state militia, so that three thousand four hundred men were
marching towards the arrogant chief of the rebellious Indians. Black
Hawk saw that he could not cope with such a force, and so withdrew from
the open country into the swamps, from the protection of which he sent
out marauding parties against the settlements. The country was in the
greatest fear and alarm.
Atkinson halted for reinforcements and dispatched a Major Stillman
with two hundred and seventy men to make a reconnoissance in the
direction of Black Hawk's hiding place. Learning of their approach,
the chief sent out three of his warriors with a flag of truce, and an
invitation to the officers to visit his camp. The white soldiers paid
no attention to the flag, took the Indians prisoners, and killed two
other Winnebagoes who came up to look for their first party, when the
emissaries did not return. This was not the boasted method of warfare
which the white man prided himself upon, and it naturally enfuriated
the followers of Black Hawk. There were but forty in the camp, as the
rest were out hunting, and, when the whites pressed forward to the
attack, these armed themselves for the fray, and quietly waited for the
rangers to approach. The latter advanced in much disorder, crossed a
narrow creek, and were confidently pushing towards Black Hawk's camp,
when they were fiercely assailed by the savages. Although outnumbering
the redskins, they were no match for them, and soon were thrown into
great disorder. Their situation finally became so desperate that the
retreat was sounded on the bugle, and they ran away in great confusion.
It was a signal triumph for the savages.
More troops were ordered to join with Atkinson. Five companies of
artillery made a rapid march of eighteen days from Fortress Monroe,
on the Chesapeake, to Chicago, on Lake Michigan, but were attacked
by cholera on the route, so that all were unfit for service before
they even reached the seat of war. Only nine were left alive in one
entire corps. Many men already at the front deserted. Some died in
the woods, and their bodies were devoured by wolves. Others straggled
into the settlements with their knapsacks on their backs, staggering
from faintness and wounds. They were shunned by the inhabitants as the
source of a mortal disease, and were left to shift for themselves.
General Scott, who was advancing with reinforcements, directed Atkinson
to pursue the campaign without waiting for him, as his entire force was
knocked out by the dread scourge, so the American leader determined for
an immediate advance upon the warriors of the now much-feared leader of
the Indian forces.