expedition against the Chickasaws. By prearrangement, D'Artaguette was to
descend from the Illinois region, and meet him near the stronghold of the
Chickasaws and aid him in their subjection. Of ardent temperament,
Bienville was easily made overconfident, and yet he had but little on
which to rely. Save the veterans of the command, he had little else.
The motley horde that had enlisted under his banner at Mobile, was not
worthy of trust in an emergency, nor did he know how far he could depend
on his Indian allies, for Red Shoes hated the white man, only he hated the
Chickasaws the more. He was going not so much in aid of the French, as he
was to punish the Chickasaws. This made his influence a doubtful quality,
and that influence was great with the Choctaws. But if Bienville could
have the command of D'Artaguette to aid him, which was destined not to be,
he could possibly succeed, though the Chickasaws were the fiercest
fighters among the tribes, and they had among them English officers, who
were training them for the coming attack.
The command was again ready to move, but the keen edge of the novelty and
enthusiasm was now blunted, on the part of at least a large contingent of
the command, which was going simply because they had to go. The scene was
a peculiar one, as the boats were ranged along the bank of the river at
Fort Tombeckbe. With refreshing complacency, the French took possession of
the boats, Simon and his seventy-five black followers owned their crafts,
and the Canadians and Indian allies were left to make their way, as best
they could, along the river to the point where all were to unite to go
against the Chickasaws.
On May 22, 1736, they reached the region where Cotton Gin Port,
Mississippi, now is, where Bienville built a temporary fort which he named
Fort Oltibia, and after securing his stores, locking his boats to the
trees, and appointing a guard to protect them, he started with twelve
days' rations to the Chickasaws' stronghold, still twenty-seven miles in
the interior.
It was a rainy season, the prairie mud was deep, the inland streams were
up, the country a tangled region of underbrush, the banks of the streams
slippery with lime mud, and most of the host already demoralized. They
started inland, the men sometimes being forced at times to wade waist deep
in crossing the streams, the march was slow and laborious, and the
prospect grew dimmer with decreasing enthusiasm, as they proceeded. There
was straggling not a little, but from more of this Bienville was saved, by
reason of the fact that they were in the enemy's country, and a sense of
common interest welded them together. They marched past fortified villages
of the Chickasaws, which villages Bienville disregarded, but he found it
next to impossible to restrain the Choctaws, in their hatred of the
Chickasaws from attacking these. One fortified village, Schouafalay, the
Choctaws did attack, much against the judgment of Bienville.
There was partial relief afforded the troops when they emerged from the
tangled wilderness and reached the open prairie. Here was an abundance of
game, of much of which the troops availed themselves, while they were
cheered not a little by the patches of ripe strawberries growing in
wildness on the plain, and by the unbroken green of the prairie dashed
here and there by patches of beautiful blossoms.
They were now within six miles of the object of attack. Here it was
proposed that the commands of Bienville and of D'Artaguette were to unite,
but the latter failed to appear. The scouts sent on in advance by
Bienville, reported that they could not find D'Artaguette and could learn
nothing of his whereabouts. This was a sore disappointment to Bienville,
for he had counted much on D'Artaguette and his veterans, but he could not
now stop. He still had about one thousand five hundred in his command, and
he was confident of success.
Bienville's plan was to pass around Ackia, where the Chickasaws were
strongly fortified, and proceed to the town of Natchez, overthrow the
Indians there, and by that means inspire the troops, and at the same time
demoralize the Chickasaws. In a council of officers now called, he
advocated this plan, but the Choctaw leaders would not listen to a
proposal like this. They wanted to attack the Chickasaws outright, crush
them, and then quietly return. Some of the French officers concurred in
the proposed policy of the Choctaws, while not a few coincided with
Bienville. The Choctaws seemed almost uncontrollable in their frantic
desire to reach the Chickasaws. To have heard them rave, one would have
thought that there was little use of the French in the expedition, at all.
Nothing was now left but to traverse the remaining six miles, and give
battle to the waiting Chickasaws. The line of march was again taken up,
and another half day brought them within full view of the battlements of
the enemy. The conditions were not such as to occasion much inspiration.
The fortifications were imposing, and seemed sufficiently strong to resist
any force.
On an eminence stood the fort of heavy logs. Around it were palisades with
port holes just above the ground, while just within the palisades was a
trench, in which the defenders would stand, rest their guns within the
port holes, and fire with ease on the plain below without the slightest
exposure of their bodies. Outside the palisades were a number of strongly
fortified structures or cabins. The fort itself was of triangular shape,
with the roof of heavy green logs, overlaid with a thick stratum of dried
mud, a double security against fire, should the French undertake the use
of combustibles. The imposing fortifications had a disheartening effect
even on the officers of the French troops, and much more the men.
A careful inspection was made, and there was nothing left but to plan for
the attack. The French were to open the battle, and the Choctaws were left
to attack as they might wish. The Indians occupied a camp some distance
from the others, and proceeded to paint and to deck themselves for
battle. They stood in readiness, as though waiting for the battle to open.
All plans were gotten in readiness, and at two o'clock in the afternoon
the fight was to begin by regular assault from the outset.
BATTLE OF ACKIA
At two o'clock on the afternoon of May 26, 1736, the battle of Ackia was
opened by Chevalier Noyan, who, as his troops advanced within carbine shot
of the fort, could easily see English officers within the palisades
directing the defense.
The French were moving to the attack in the open, without personal
shields, which were too heavy to be brought so great a distance, and they
had to resort to portable breastworks made of heavy ropes, closely woven
together in strips of about four feet in width and about twenty feet in
length. This wide strip of roping had to be borne at either end by strong
men, who were of course exposed, while the firing line was somewhat
protected. These mantelets, for such the movable fortifications were
called, were carried by negroes, whom the French forced into this perilous
service. A broadside of musketry was opened on the fort, in response to
which the garrison vigorously replied, and among the casualties was that
of killing one of the negroes, while another was wounded, whereupon every
black man who was supporting the mantelets threw them down and fled the
field. Without a waver in their line, the French pressed on to the attack.
The grenadiers led the advance and moved on into the outside village. The
battle was now on in earnest, and one of the ablest of the French
commanders, Chevalier de Contre Coeur, was killed, together with a number
of grenadiers, but the fortified cabins were taken without, as well as
some smaller ones, to the latter of which fire was applied. This quick
advantage gained, led to an enthusiastic determination to carry the fort
by assault. Noyan, at the head of his troops, saw the advantage and was
ready to lead the charge. With sword upraised, he commanded the advance,
but on looking back he found that all the troops, save a mere handful, had
fled back to the fortified cabins, leaving the officers. The enemy taking
advantage of this juncture, fired more vigorously still, and another of
the brave commanders, Captain DeLusser, the same who commanded at Fort
Tombecke, fell. The officers bringing up the rear urged, besought,
exhorted the troops who had sought shelter in the cabins to rejoin their
officers, but to no purpose. They were promised the reward of promotion,
but that did not avail. Finally the officers sought to appeal to their
pride by proposing to take such as would follow and themselves make the
assault, to all of which the troops were agreed, but they did not propose
to face again the galling fire of the Chickasaws. Suiting the action to
the word, the officers proceeded to the assault, for which they paid
severely, for every prominent leader was shot down wounded--Noyan,
Grondel, Montburn and De Velles. Though bleeding and suffering, Noyan
supported himself and, much exposed, held his ground with a remnant of
troops. Hoping to elicit those from the cabins, he ordered an aide to
request the secreted troops to come to his rescue, as he was wounded. As
the officer turned to obey, he was shot dead.
The assault had been carried to within a short distance of the main walls
where the officers lay bleeding from their wounds, the foremost of whom
was the gallant Grondel. A number of Indian warriors issued from the fort
to scalp him, on observing which a sergeant with four men rushed to his
rescue, drove the Indians back into the fort, and raised his body to bear
it off the field. Just as they started, every rescuer was killed. A
stalwart Frenchman named Regnisse, seeing what had happened, dashed toward
the body alone, under a galling fire, lifted the wounded man to his back
and bore him off, though not without the receipt of another wound by
Grondel.
Meanwhile, where were the courageous Choctaws who were so eager for the
fray and who were the chief cause of bringing on the fight? While the
French were exposed to a raking fire, these six hundred painted warriors
remained at a safe distance on the plain, giving frequent vent to shouting
and shrieking and yelling, interspersed now and then with dancing, and
shooting into the air. This was the utmost of the service rendered by the
Choctaw allies.
Though with a courageous few, Noyan had come under the shadow of the walls
of the fort, he could do no more unsupported, and so proceeded to return,
in order, to the fortified cabins, where he found his men crouching in
fear, when he at once notified Bienville of the peril of the situation. He
asked for a detachment to bear off the dead and wounded, and notified the
governor that without troops to support him, nothing more could be done to
capture the fort.
At this juncture, Bienville saw a demonstration made on the part of the
savages in the fort, from an unconjectured quarter, to capture the cabins
in which were gathered the men and officers, and made haste to send
Beauchamp, with eighty men, to head off the movement, rescue the troops
and to bring away the wounded and the dead. Beauchamp moved with speed,
turned back the movement, and while many of the dead and wounded were
recovered, he could not recover all. In this movement Beauchamp lost a
number of men. So hot was the firing from the fort, that he was compelled
to leave a number to the barbarity of the Chickasaws.
As Beauchamp was retiring in an orderly way, the Choctaws issued from
their camp with much impetuosity and fury, as though they had at last
resolved to carry everything before them. Fleet of foot, and filling the
air with their wild yelling, they dashed toward the fort, but just then a
well-directed fire into their ranks, from the Chickasaws, created a speedy
rout, and they fled in every direction.
Had Bienville been able to bring his cannon so far into the interior, he
would have demolished the fort in short order, but as it was, everything
was against him. Instead of his plans being executed as originally formed,
they fell to pieces, step by step, and his defeat was the most signal.
Thus ended the campaign against the Chickasaws, the fiercest and most
warlike of all the tribes. After all the imposing grandeur at the outset
of the campaign it ended in a fiasco. The situation was much graver than
Bienville seemed to apprehend. He was in the heart of the enemy's country,
without substantial support. His Choctaw allies had failed him, and in a
grave crisis his own men had forsaken him. Nothing would have been easier
than for the Chickasaws to cut him off from his boats, and extinguish the
entire command, but, themselves unapprised of the conditions, they kept
well within the enclosure of the fort. Other difficulties were in store
for the unfortunate Bienville.
AFTER THE BATTLE, WHAT?
The battle of Ackia had lasted three hours, but during that brief time
there were some as excellent exhibitions of bravery, as well as sad
defections of soldiery, as can well be conceived. However, all the
dramatic and tragical scenes were not confined to the battle, as other
interesting details are to follow. The day was now closing. For about two
hours, the utmost quiet had fallen on the scene. The noisy Choctaws, in a
camp adjoining, had become strangely silent. Not a note of activity came
from the fort, not a man was to be seen. The horses and cattle of the
Chickasaws, grazing on the prairie when the battle began, had fled far
across the plain, but now that the day was closing, and the firing had
ceased, they came wending their way across the expanse to a small stream
that flowed at the base of the hill.
In a group the French officers were standing, discussing the scenes of the
recent conflict, and indignant at the conduct of the Indian allies; they
turned jocularly to Simon, the negro commander, and chid him on the
cowardice of his black crew. Simon was polite and bright, and was much in
favor with the officers. While he smiled in return to the jocularity of
the officers, he glanced about him, suddenly picked up a long rope, and
said: "I'll prove to you that a negro is as brave as anybody, when it is
necessary to be," and with this dashed toward the herd of cattle and
horses, selected a milk-white mare, hastily made a halter, mounted on her
back, and sped the entire circuit of the walls of the fort, perhaps a
distance of a quarter of a mile. He was fired on by hundreds of rifles
from the fort, but dashed back to the group of officers without having
received a scratch, leaped from the back of the mare, gracefully saluted
the officers and bowed, while they cheered his exploit. No one doubted the
courage of Simon after that feat.
That night the French slept on their arms. Not a note came from the fort.
There was funereal silence everywhere. When, however, light broke over the
scene on the following morning, a horrible spectacle met the gaze of the
French. The Chickasaws had sallied forth during the night and had borne
within the fort the dead left on the scene, had quartered them, and had
hung from the walls portions of the bodies of the unfortunate slain. This
act of barbarous defiance, added to the sting of defeat, infuriated many
of the officers and men, and they demanded to be given another chance at
the Chickasaws and they would demolish the fort. Incensed and insulted,
they became almost uncontrollable, but Bienville admonished coolness and
prudence, for he had had enough, and was now more concerned about how he
should get away with his crippled command. As the Choctaw allies had
proved an incubus to Bienville from the start, and a source of annoyance
and of embarrassment, the governor thought to enlist them in the removal
of his stores and of the wounded. To this proposal they at first demurred,
then became sullen, and finally refractory, and proposed to abandon the
French outright, leave them to their fate, and hunt again their homes to
the south.
Bienville was a shrewd diplomat and sagacious, and knew full well that if
such an emergency should come, and the Choctaws would reach the boats
first, take them and the stores left at Fort Oltibia, float down the
river, and leave him and his men to perish in the wilds. In order to avert
this calamity he proceeded on a policy of conciliation. It was ascertained
that Red Shoes was the instigator of the discontent, who was as merciless
as he was shrewdly ambitious of influence and leadership. Bienville
dreaded him, and had distrusted him all along, but there was no way of
disposing of him, and he had to accompany the command. The governor sent
for the chief, who appeared before him accompanied by the despicable Red
Shoes. Bienville not only persuaded the chief to remain steadfast, but
gained his consent to have his warriors become burden-bearers of the camp
equipage. At this agreement between the two leaders, Red Shoes indignantly
protested, and in his rage snatched his pistol from his belt and would
have shot the chief on the spot, had not Bienville seized his brawny arm
and prevented the commission of the deed.
The march back to the boats was tedious and irksome, covering only four
miles the first day. Two of the wounded men died on the way and were
buried in the woods. The showers under which the march to the fort had
prevailed, ceased for a week or more, followed by a season of hot, dry
weather, the river at that point had shrunk, and the water was scarcely
of sufficient depth to float the craft. As quickly as possible, things
were gotten in readiness, the Choctaws were again left to shift for
themselves, and Bienville and his command drifted down the river to Fort
Tombeckbe. Here he left De Berthel in command, with a year's supply of
provisions, a quantity of merchandise with which to trade with the
Indians, the wounded men to be cared for till restored, and Bienville,
with spirit much subdued and humiliated over his discomfiture, returned to
Mobile.
But what had become of D'Artaguette and his three hundred? His fate was
the saddest. In seeking to comply with the request of Bienville to join
him in the expedition against the fort, he had fallen in with a body of
Chickasaws, who, by superior numbers, had overwhelmed him and captured him
and his entire command. Himself and his men were prisoners in the fort
during the engagement, and the ammunition used by the Chickasaws was that
captured from the ill-fated D'Artaguette. Up to the time of the attack on
the fort, D'Artaguette and his men were as well treated as Indians can
treat the captured, but on the retirement of Bienville, D'Artaguette and
his men were tied to stakes and burned.
For all the disasters attendant on the ill-starred campaign, including
that of the fate of D'Artaguette, Bienville was held responsible by the
Paris government, with which he lost favor, and the wane of influence and
of power followed. Bienville was a victim of conditions over which no
mortal could have had control, but it was a juncture of conditions that
sometimes comes to the most meritorious of men, into which Bienville was
brought, and he had to be sacrificed. While the work that he did laid the
foundation of the civilization of three southern commonwealths, he was
removed in dishonor, and left the scene of action and sank from view
forever.
THE RUSSIAN PRINCESS
About the year 1721, a body of German colonists reached Mobile, and
settled in the region adjoining. Among them was a woman of unusual
personal beauty and of rare charm of manner. Her dress, and especially her
jewels, indicated not only her station, but her wealth. She caused it to
be understood that she was the daughter of the Duke of Brunswick
Wolfenbuttel and the wife of Alexis Petrowitz, the son of Peter the Great,
and accounted for her strange presence in the wilds of south Alabama, as
due to the fact that she had been cruelly treated by the heir to the
Russian throne; that she had fled the dominion of the great Peter, and for
security, had sought the most distant region known to her. She furthermore
asserted that the younger Peter had duly advertised the death of his wife,
but insisted that the monstrous Muskovite had done this in order to
conceal the scandal of her forced flight from his castle, and in order,
too, to explain her absence from the court circles of St. Petersburg.
All this she explained to be a mere ruse, and that she was the real
princess who had escaped his tyranny, preferring the inhospitable
wilderness of a distant continent, to the royal palace with its tyrannous
cruelty. The story received general credence, since the splendor of her
attire and her familiarity with the inner secrets of the Russian court
proved that she was no ordinary personage. Besides all this, there was
increased evidence afforded by her conduct. Her beautiful face was
saddened by some evident trouble over which she seemed to brood, as with
a far-away look she would sit and muse for hours together. How else could
all this be explained, save by the story which she related? This is just
the evidence one would look for in substantiation of a story of cruelty.
The prepossessing manner of the princess, her immense fortune, and her
ability to discuss Russian affairs, served to win not alone the confidence
of all, but their sympathy as well. Her wrongs were the burden of her
conversation, and her own reported station in life elicited much
deference, which was duly and promptly accorded by all alike.
Great as the credence was, as a result of the recital of her wrongs, it
received a reinforcement from another source that seemed to place it
beyond question. Chevalier d'Aubant, a young French officer, had seen the
wife of the Russian prince, and he declared that this was none other than
she. He could not be mistaken, for he had seen her at St. Petersburg. This
insistence settled the identity of the princess in the estimation of all.
But d'Aubant did not stop at this point of mere recognition. His profound
sympathy awoke interest, which brought him frequently within the circle of
the charms of the fair Russian, and, in turn, interest deepened into
tenderness of affection. To the vivacious Frenchman, the glitter of wealth
was far from proving an obstruction to the valiantness with which he
assailed the citadel of her heart. At any rate, the chevalier and princess
became one, lived in comparative splendor for years, and removed to
Paris, where, in sumptuous apartments, they resided till the death of the
chevalier.
The deep shadow which had come into the life of the princess, according to
her own story, won her hosts of friends whom she was able to retain by
reason of her charms. The well-known character of the second Peter, a
dissolute, worthless wretch, and the fact that his father had sent him
abroad in Europe, to travel with the hope that his ways might be reformed
by a wider margin of observation of the affairs of the world, lent
increased credence to the pathetic story and elicited fresh installments
of interest and sympathy. Chevalier d'Aubant died in the belief that he
had married the repudiated wife of the eldest son of Peter the Great of
Russia.
But a fatal revelation was inevitable. It is said that while strolling in
the Garden of the Tuileries she was one day met by the marshal of Saxe,
who recognized her as one of the attendants of the Russian princess, an
humble female who greatly resembled her mistress, and by reason of her
contact with the most elevated of Russian society, had acquired the
manners of the best, and while in the service of the princess had means of
access to her wardrobe and purse, and by stealth, had enriched herself and
at an unconjectured time fled the palace and escaped to America. The
Chevalier d'Aubant, having seen the princess once, was easily deceived by
the appearance of this woman, her wealth, and by the reputation of the
Russian prince. On her ill-gotten wealth he lived for years, and died in
blissful ignorance of her huge pretension.