THE BATTLE OF TALLUSHATCHEE.
On the second day of November, Jackson learned that a considerable force
of the enemy was gathered at Tallushatchee, an Indian town about ten
miles from the Ten Islands. He had no sooner received this information
than he ordered Coffee with about nine hundred men to attack the post.
Coffee marched on the moment, taking with him a company of friendly
Indians, mostly Cherokees, under Richard Brown. To prevent errors the
Indians in the expedition wore white feathers and deer-tails on their
heads.
The expedition crossed the river a few miles above the Ten Islands, and
advanced during the night, arriving in the immediate neighborhood of the
town about daybreak on the 3d of November. The purpose was not merely to
defeat but to destroy the Indian force, and therefore, instead of
dashing at once into the town, Coffee divided his force in half, sending
Colonel Allcorn with the cavalry to the right, while he himself, in
company with Colonel Cannon, marched to the left around the place,
keeping at a sufficient distance to avoid alarming the Indians.
When the heads of the two columns met, the town was entirely surrounded.
Notwithstanding the caution with which this movement was executed, the
Indians discovered the presence of the enemy when the troops were half a
mile distant. They beat their drums and yelled in savage fashion, but
remained on the defensive, awaiting the attack.
About sunrise, every thing being in readiness, General Coffee sent two
companies forward into the town, without breaking his circular
alignment, instructing the officers in command of them to make an
assault and bring on the action. The manoeuvre was altogether
successful. As soon as the two companies made their attack, the Indians,
confident that this was the whole of the assaulting column, rushed out
of their houses and other hiding-places; and charged their assailants
with great vigor. The companies of whites thereupon began falling back
and the Creeks pursued them hotly. When the main line was reached, it
delivered a volley into the midst of the advancing savages, and
immediately charged them, driving them back in confusion to the shelter
of their houses. Here the Creeks fought with the utmost desperation,
refusing quarter, obstinately resisting when resistance was manifestly
in vain, and choosing to die where they stood, rather than yield even to
Coffee's overwhelming numbers.
General Coffee said in his report of the affair:
"The enemy retreated, firing, until they got around and in their
buildings, where they made all the resistance that an overpowered
soldier could do. They fought as long as one existed; but their
destruction was very soon completed. Our men rushed up to the doors of
the houses, and in a few minutes killed the last warrior of them. The
enemy fought with savage fury, and met death with all its horrors,
without shrinking or complaining; not one asked to be spared, but [they]
fought as long as they could stand or sit. In consequence of their
flying to their houses and mixing with their families, our men, in
killing the males, without intention killed and wounded a few of the
squaws and children, which was regretted by every officer and soldier of
the detachment, but which could not be avoided."
Coffee counted one hundred and eighty-six dead bodies of Indians, and,
as many of them fell in the grass and high weeds, where their bodies
were not easily found, he expressed the opinion in his report that the
number of killed did not fall short of two hundred, while his own loss
was five men killed and forty-one wounded, most of the wounds being
slight and none of them mortal. For the first time in the history of
Indian warfare, the fighting force of the savages in this battle was
utterly destroyed, not a single warrior escaping alive.
There were eighty-four prisoners taken, all of them being women and
children. Not only General Coffee, but his officers and men also, would
gladly have ended the fight as soon as victory was theirs, sparing the
warriors who had survived the first onset, and they constantly offered
quarter not only to bodies of men who were fighting together, but to
single individuals who were manifestly at their mercy, and to wounded
warriors; but their offers of mercy were indignantly rejected in every
case, and they therefore had no choice but to convert the battle into a
massacre more complete than that which had occurred at Fort Mims, except
that the women and children were spared; but this time the butchery was
forced upon the victors against their will, while at Fort Mims the
triumphant savages had willingly indulged in indiscriminate slaughter.
Coffee at once took up his return march and rejoined Jackson, who sent a
brief despatch reporting the affair to Governor Blount, praising Coffee
and his men in the strongest terms, and ending with that plaintive plea
for food for his army, which was now constantly on his lips. "If we had
a sufficient supply of provisions," he wrote, "we should in a very short
time accomplish the object of the expedition."
The most encouraging thing about this affair was the good conduct of the
men. They manifested so little of the spirit of raw and undisciplined
troops; they fought with so much coolness and steadiness, and went
through the battle showing so few signs of that excitement which
commonly impairs the efficiency of inexperienced soldiers, that their
commander felt a confidence in them which justified him in attempting
more than he would otherwise have dared in the circumstances.
Mr. Parton, in his Life of Andrew Jackson, preserves a story which grew
out of this battle, and which so strongly illustrates the softer side of
a stern soldier's character, that we may be pardoned for breaking the
narrative to copy it here.
"On the bloody field of Tallushatchee was found a slain mother still
embracing her living infant. The child was brought into camp with the
other prisoners, and Jackson, anxious to save it, endeavored to induce
some of the Indian women to give it nourishment. 'No,' said they, 'all
his relatives are dead; kill him too.' This reply appealed to the heart
of the general. He caused the child to be taken to his own hut, where
among the few remaining stores was found a little brown sugar. This,
mingled with water, served to keep the child alive until it could be
sent to Huntsville, where it was nursed at Jackson's expense until the
end of the campaign, and then taken to the Hermitage. Mrs. Jackson
received it cordially, and the boy grew up in the family, treated by the
general and his kind wife as a son and a favorite. Lincoyer was the name
given him by the general. He grew to be a finely formed and robust
youth, and received the education usually given to the planters' sons in
the neighborhood. Yet it appears he remained an Indian to the last,
delighting to roam the fields and woods, and decorate his hair and
clothes with gay feathers, and given to strong yearnings for his native
wilds."
The boy did not live to reach manhood, however. In his seventeenth year
he fell a victim to pulmonary consumption, and when he died his
benefactor mourned him as bitterly as if he had been indeed his son.