I was living ten miles below Winchester when the Creek war commenced;
and as military men are making so much fuss in the world at this time, I
must give an account of the part I took in the defence of the country.
If it should make me president, why I can't help it; such things will
sometimes happen; and my pluck is, never "to seek, nor decline office."
It is true, I had a little rather not; but yet, if the government can't
get on without taking another president from Tennessee, to finish the
work of "retrenchment and reform," why, then, I reckon I must go in for
it. But I must begin about the war, and leave the other matter for the
people to begin on.
The Creek Indians had commenced their open hostilities by a most bloody
butchery at Fort Mimms. There had been no war among us for so long, that
but few, who were not too old to bear arms, knew any thing about the
business. I, for one, had often thought about war, and had often heard
it described; and I did verily believe in my own mind, that I couldn't
fight in that way at all; but my after experience convinced me that this
was all a notion. For when I heard of the mischief which was done at the
fort, I instantly felt like going, and I had none of the dread of dying
that I expected to feel. In a few days a general meeting of the militia
was called for the purpose of raising volunteers; and when the day
arrived for that meeting, my wife, who had heard me say I meant to go to
the war, began to beg me not to turn out. She said she was a stranger in
the parts where we lived, had no connexions living near her, and that
she and our little children would be left in a lonesome and unhappy
situation if I went away. It was mighty hard to go against such
arguments as these; but my countrymen had been murdered, and I knew that
the next thing would be, that the Indians would be scalping the women
and children all about there, if we didn't put a stop to it. I reasoned
the case with her as well as I could, and told her, that if every man
would wait till his wife got willing for him to go to war, there would
be no fighting done, until we would all be killed in our own houses;
that I was as able to go as any man in the world; and that I believed
it was a duty I owed to my country. Whether she was satisfied with this
reasoning or not, she did not tell me; but seeing I was bent on it, all
she did was to cry a little, and turn about to her work. The truth is,
my dander was up, and nothing but war could bring it right again.
I went to Winchester, where the muster was to be, and a great many
people had collected, for there was as much fuss among the people about
the war as there is now about moving the deposites. When the men were
paraded, a lawyer by the name of Jones addressed us, and closed by
turning out himself, and enquiring, at the same time, who among us felt
like we could fight Indians? This was the same Mr. Jones who afterwards
served in Congress, from the state of Tennessee. He informed us he
wished to raise a company, and that then the men should meet and elect
their own officers. I believe I was about the second or third man that
step'd out; but on marching up and down the regiment a few times, we
found we had a large company. We volunteered for sixty days, as it was
supposed our services would not be longer wanted. A day or two after
this we met and elected Mr. Jones our captain, and also elected our
other officers. We then received orders to start on the next Monday
week; before which time, I had fixed as well as I could to go, and my
wife had equip'd me as well as she was able for the camp. The time
arrived; I took a parting farewell of my wife and my little boys,
mounted my horse, and set sail, to join my company. Expecting to be gone
only a short time, I took no more clothing with me than I supposed would
be necessary, so that if I got into an Indian battle, I might not be
pestered with any unnecessary plunder, to prevent my having a fair shake
with them. We all met and went ahead, till we passed Huntsville, and
camped at a large spring called Beaty's spring. Here we staid for
several days, in which time the troops began to collect from all
quarters. At last we mustered about thirteen hundred strong, all mounted
volunteers, and all determined to fight, judging from myself, for I felt
wolfish all over. I verily believe the whole army was of the real grit.
Our captain didn't want any other sort; and to try them he several times
told his men, that if any of them wanted to go back home, they might do
so at any time, before they were regularly mustered into the service.
But he had the honour to command all his men from first to last, as not
one of them left him.
Gen'l. Jackson had not yet left Nashville with his old foot volunteers,
that had gone with him to Natchez in 1812, the year before. While we
remained at the spring, a Major Gibson came, and wanted some volunteers
to go with him across the Tennessee river and into the Creek nation, to
find out the movements of the Indians. He came to my captain, and asked
for two of his best woods-men, and such as were best with a rifle. The
captain pointed me out to him, and said he would be security that I
would go as far as the major would himself, or any other man. I
willingly engaged to go with him, and asked him to let me choose my own
mate to go with me, which he said I might do. I chose a young man by the
name of George Russell, a son of old Major Russell, of Tennessee. I
called him up, but Major Gibson said he thought he hadn't beard enough
to please him,--he wanted men, and not boys. I must confess I was a
little nettled at this; for I know'd George Russell, and I know'd there
was no mistake in him; and I didn't think that courage ought to be
measured by the beard, for fear a goat would have the preference over a
man. I told the major he was on the wrong scent; that Russell could go
as far as he could, and I must have him along. He saw I was a little
wrathy, and said I had the best chance of knowing, and agreed that it
should be as I wanted it. He told us to be ready early in the morning
for a start; and so we were. We took our camp equipage, mounted our
horses, and, thirteen in number, including the major, we cut out. We
went on, and crossed the Tennessee river at a place called Ditto's
Landing; and then traveled about seven miles further, and took up camp
for the night. Here a man by the name of John Haynes overtook us. He had
been an Indian trader in that part of the nation, and was well
acquainted with it. He went with us as a pilot. The next morning,
however, Major Gibson and myself concluded we should separate and take
different directions to see what discoveries we could make; so he took
seven of the men, and I five, making thirteen in all, including myself.
He was to go by the house of a Cherokee Indian, named Dick Brown, and I
was to go by Dick's father's; and getting all the information we could,
we were to meet that evening where the roads came together, fifteen
miles the other side of Brown's. At old Mr. Brown's I got a half blood
Cherokee to agree to go with me, whose name was Jack Thompson. He was
not then ready to start, but was to fix that evening, and overtake us at
the fork road where I was to meet Major Gibson. I know'd it wouldn't be
safe to camp right at the road; and so I told Jack, that when he got to
the fork he must holler like an owl, and I would answer him in the same
way; for I know'd it would be night before he got there. I and my men
then started, and went on to the place of meeting, but Major Gibson was
not there. We waited till almost dark, but still he didn't come. We then
left the Indian trace a little distance, and turning into the head of a
hollow, we struck up camp. It was about ten o'clock at night, when I
heard my owl, and I answered him. Jack soon found us, and we determined
to rest there during the night. We staid also next morning till after
breakfast: but in vain, for the major didn't still come.
I told the men we had set out to hunt a fight, and I wouldn't go back in
that way; that we must go ahead, and see what the red men were at. We
started, and went to a Cherokee town about twenty miles off; and after a
short stay there, we pushed on to the house of a man by the name of
Radcliff. He was a white man, but had married a Creek woman, and lived
just in the edge of the Creek nation. He had two sons, large likely
fellows, and a great deal of potatoes and corn, and, indeed, almost
every thing else to go on; so we fed our horses and got dinner with
him, and seemed to be doing mighty well. But he was bad scared all the
time. He told us there had been ten painted warriors at his house only
an hour before, and if we were discovered there, they would kill us, and
his family with us. I replied to him, that my business was to hunt for
just such fellows as he had described, and I was determined not to go
back until I had done it. Our dinner being over, we saddled up our
horses, and made ready to start. But some of my small company I found
were disposed to return. I told them, if we were to go back then, we
should never hear the last of it; and I was determined to go ahead. I
knowed some of them would go with me, and that the rest were afraid to
go back by themselves; and so we pushed on to the camp of some of the
friendly Creeks, which was distant about eight miles. The moon was about
the full, and the night was clear; we therefore had the benefit of her
light from night to morning, and I knew if we were placed in such danger
as to make a retreat necessary, we could travel by night as well as in
the day time.
We had not gone very far, when we met two negroes, well mounted on
Indian ponies, and each with a good rifle. They had been taken from
their owners by the Indians, and were running away from them, and trying
to get back to their masters again. They were brothers, both very large
and likely, and could talk Indian as well as English. One of them I sent
on to Ditto's Landing, the other I took back with me. It was after dark
when we got to the camp, where we found about forty men, women, and
children.
They had bows and arrows, and I turned in to shooting with their boys by
a pine light. In this way we amused ourselves very well for a while; but
at last the negro, who had been talking to the Indians, came to me and
told me they were very much alarmed, for the "red sticks," as they
called the war party of the Creeks, would come and find us there; and,
if so, we should all be killed. I directed him to tell them that I would
watch, and if one would come that night, I would carry the skin of his
head home to make me a mockasin. When he made this communication, the
Indians laughed aloud. At about ten o'clock at night we all concluded to
try to sleep a little; but that our horses might be ready for use, as
the treasurer said of the drafts on the United States' bank, on certain
"contingences," we tied them up with our saddles on them, and every
thing to our hand, if in the night our quarters should get
uncomfortable. We lay down with our guns in our arms, and I had just
gotten into a dose of sleep, when I heard the sharpest scream that ever
escaped the throat of a human creature. It was more like a wrathy
painter than any thing else. The negro understood it, and he sprang to
me; for tho' I heard the noise well enough, yet I wasn't wide awake
enough to get up. So the negro caught me, and said the red sticks was
coming. I rose quicker then, and asked what was the matter? Our negro
had gone and talked with the Indian who had just fetched the scream, as
he come into camp, and learned from him, that the war party had been
crossing the Coosa river all day at the Ten islands; and were going on
to meet Jackson, and this Indian had come as a runner. This news very
much alarmed the friendly Indians in camp, and they were all off in a
few minutes. I felt bound to make this intelligence known as soon as
possible to the army we had left at the landing; and so we all mounted
our horses, and put out in a long lope to make our way back to that
place. We were about sixty-five miles off. We went on to the same
Cherokee town we had visited on our way out, having first called at
Radcliff's, who was off with his family; and at the town we found
large fires burning, but not a single Indian was to be seen. They were
all gone. These circumstances were calculated to lay our dander a
little, as it appeared we must be in great danger; though we could
easily have licked any force of not more than five to one. But we
expected the whole nation would be on us, and against such fearful odds
we were not so rampant for a fight.
We therefore staid only a short time in the light of the fires about the
town, preferring the light of the moon and the shade of the woods. We
pushed on till we got again to old Mr. Brown's, which was still about
thirty miles from where we had left the main army. When we got there,
the chickens were just at the first crowing for day. We fed our horses,
got a morsel to eat ourselves, and again cut out. About ten o'clock in
the morning we reached the camp, and I reported to Col. Coffee the news.
He didn't seem to mind my report a bit, and this raised my dander higher
than ever; but I knowed I had to be on my best behaviour, and so I kept
it all to myself; though I was so mad that I was burning inside like a
tar-kiln, and I wonder that the smoke hadn't been pouring out of me at
all points.
Major Gibson hadn't yet returned, and we all began to think he was
killed; and that night they put out a double guard. The next day the
major got in, and brought a worse tale than I had, though he stated the
same facts, so far as I went. This seemed to put our colonel all in a
fidget; and it convinced me, clearly, of one of the hateful ways of the
world. When I made my report, it wasn't believed, because I was no
officer; I was no great man, but just a poor soldier. But when the same
thing was reported by Major Gibson!! why, then, it was all as true as
preaching, and the colonel believed it every word.
He, therefore, ordered breastworks to be thrown up, near a quarter of a
mile long, and sent an express to Fayetteville, where General Jackson
and his troops was, requesting them to push on like the very mischief,
for fear we should all be cooked up to a cracklin before they could get
there. Old Hickory-face made a forced march on getting the news; and on
the next day, he and his men got into camp, with their feet all
blistered from the effects of their swift journey. The volunteers,
therefore, stood guard altogether, to let them rest.