THE BATTLE OF BURNT CORN.
In the month of July, 1813, Peter McQueen, High Head Jim, and the
Prophet Francis, having collected a large amount of plunder in their
descents upon the homes of peaceful Indians and the plantations of
half-breeds, sought a market for their booty. Collecting their followers
to the number of about three hundred men, they loaded a number of
pack-horses, and set out for Pensacola, driving a herd of stolen cattle
before them. It was their purpose to exchange these things at Pensacola
for arms, ammunition, whiskey, and whatever else they wanted; and
combining pleasure with business, they amused themselves on the route by
burning villages and committing murders upon Indians who persisted in
their friendship for the whites.
Meantime the white people had at last become thoroughly alarmed. The
news which McNac brought of his conversation with High Head Jim
convinced even the most sceptical that a war of greater or smaller
proportions was at hand, and it was the conviction of the wisest men
among them that the best way to save themselves from impending
destruction was to strike in time. The British had now begun seriously
to threaten a descent upon the south-west, and it seemed to be more than
probable that the savages were only delaying their general outbreak
until their allies the British should appear somewhere upon the coast,
and force the militia of the Tensaw and Tombigbee settlements to march
away to meet them. Then the country would be defenceless, and the
Indians could easily exterminate all that remained of the white
population.
The pioneers who lived in that part of the country were brave, hardy,
and resolute men, and they no sooner saw their danger distinctly than
they took up arms with which to defend themselves. They resolved to
assert their resolution by attacking not the Indian towns, but the
roving parties of Indian outlaws who were bringing the war about. If
they could crush these, punishing them effectually, they thought, the
great body of the Creeks would think twice before deciding to make the
contemplated war.
Accordingly a summons was sent out for volunteers. About two hundred
men, or nearly that number, some of them white men, some half-breeds,
and some friendly Indians, promptly answered the call. Among them was
Captain Samuel Dale, better known in history as Sam Dale, the hero of
the canoe fight, one of the strangest and most desperate affairs of the
war, some account of which will be given in its proper place.
This little army was commanded by Colonel Caller, assisted by one
lieutenant-colonel, four majors, and more captains and lieutenants than
have been counted. Deducting these from the total force, we are led to
the conviction that there must have been an average of about one officer
to every two men; but even this enormous proportion of officers did not
prevent the men from behaving badly in the presence of the enemy and
getting sharply beaten, as will be related presently.
When the several companies composing this expedition were brought
together, the line of march was taken toward Pensacola, with the purpose
of encountering Peter McQueen and his force on their return. On the
morning of July 27th, 1813, the advance scouts came in and reported that
McQueen's force was encamped upon Burnt Corn Creek, just in advance of
Caller's column, and that officer promptly determined to attack them.
Forming his men in line he advanced cautiously through the reeds until
the Indian camp lay just below. Then, with a yell, the men dashed
forward to the charge, and after a few moments' resistance the surprised
and beaten Indians abandoned their camp with its horses and its rich
stores of ammunition and food, and fled precipitately to the creek, by
which the camp was encircled except upon the side from which the white
men came. Dale, who was a born Indian fighter, Captain Dixon Bailey, and
Captain Smoot--who were also resolute men and good officers, Bailey
being an educated half-breed--saw at a glance that to pursue the flying
savages was to crush them utterly; and they therefore led their men,
some seventy-five or eighty in number, forward, and crowded the Indians
as closely as possible. Had they been promptly supported, McQueen's
force would have been utterly destroyed, and there might have been no
Creek war for us to write and read about. Unluckily the other officers
were less wise than Dale and Bailey and Smoot. When the Indians gave way
and ran, leaving their camp with its pack-horses loaded with goods, the
officers and men of the main body supposed that their work was done.
Instead of joining in the pursuit, they broke their ranks, threw down
their arms, and busied themselves securing the plunder.
Peter McQueen was a shrewd fellow in his way, and he was not long in
discovering the weakness of the force which had followed him to the
creek. Rallying his men he gave them battle, and began pressing them
back. Colonel Caller, who was leading the advance, instead of ordering
his main body to the front, as a more experienced officer would have
done, determined to fall back upon them as a reserve. Dale, Smoot, and
Bailey could have maintained their position while waiting for the
reinforcements to come up, but when ordered to fall back upon the main
body, their brave but untrained and inexperienced men retreated rather
hastily. The men of the main body, having broken ranks to plunder, were
in no condition to resist panic, and seeing the advance companies
retreating, with the yelling Indians at their heels, they fled
precipitately. Caller, Dale, Bailey, and Smoot tried to rally them, but
succeeded only in getting eighty men into line. This small force,
commanded by their brave officers, made a desperate stand, and brought
the advancing savages to a halt. Dale was severely wounded, but he
fought on in spite of his suffering and his weakness. Finally, seeing
that they were overmatched and that their comrades had abandoned them
to their fate, the little band retreated, fighting as they went, until
at last the Indians abandoned the pursuit. Some of the Americans went
home, others became lost and were found, nearly dead with fatigue and
starvation, about a fortnight later.
Thus ended the battle of Burnt Corn. It was lost to the white men solely
by the misconduct of officers and men, but that misconduct was the
result of inexperience and a want of discipline, not of cowardice or any
lack of manhood.
The Indians were badly hurt. Their losses, though not known definitely,
are known to have been greater than those of the whites, of whom only
two were killed and fifteen wounded. They had lost their pack-horses,
and nearly all the fruits of their journey to Pensacola, so that they
were forced to return to that post to procure fresh supplies.
The affair was a much more serious disaster to the whites, however, than
at first appeared. The expedition had been undertaken for the purpose of
destroying McQueen's party, and thereby intimidating the war-inclined
Creeks. In that it had utterly failed. The Creeks were victors, though
they had suffered loss. Their victory encouraged them, and their losses
still further incensed them. The war which before was threatened was now
actually begun. The first battle had been fought, and others must follow
of necessity. The Creeks believed themselves to be able to exterminate
the whites, and they were now determined to do so.
In this determination they were strengthened not merely by the general
countenance given to them at Pensacola, but by very specific and urgent
advice from the British and Spanish officers there, who, as we learn
from official documents, urged the Creeks to make the war at once,
saying:
"If they [the Americans] prove too hard for you, send your women and
children to Pensacola and we will send them to Havana; and if you should
be compelled to fly yourselves, and the Americans should prove too hard
for both of us, there are vessels enough to take us all off together."