When we made a move from the point where we met the companies, we set
out for Chatahachy, the place for which we had started when we left Fort
Montgomery. At the start we had taken only twenty days' rations of
flour, and eight days' rations of beef; and it was now thirty-four days
before we reached that place. We were, therefore, in extreme suffering
for want of something to eat, and exhausted with our exposure and the
fatigues of our journey. I remember well, that I had not myself tasted
bread but twice in nineteen days. I had bought a pretty good supply of
coffee from the boat that had reached us from Pensacola, on the Scamby,
and on that we chiefly subsisted. At length, one night our spies came
in, and informed us they had found Holm's village on the Chatahachy
river; and we made an immediate push for that place. We traveled all
night, expecting to get something to eat when we got there. We arrived
about sunrise, and near the place prepared for battle. We were all so
furious, that even the certainty of a pretty hard fight could not have
restrained us. We made a furious charge on the town, but to our great
mortification and surprise, there wasn't a human being in it. The
Indians had all run off and left it. We burned the town, however; but,
melancholy to tell, we found no provision whatever. We then turned
about, and went back to the camp we had left the night before, as nearly
starved as any set of poor fellows ever were in the world.
We staid there only a little while, when we divided our regiment; and
Major Childs, with his men, went back the way we had come for a
considerable distance, and then turned to Baton Rouge, where they joined
General Jackson and the main army on their return from Orleans. Major
Russell and his men struck for Fort Decatur, on the Talapoosa river.
Some of our friendly Indians, who knew the country, went on ahead of us,
as we had no trail except the one they made to follow. With them we sent
some of our ablest horses and men, to get us some provisions, to prevent
us from absolutely starving to death. As the army marched, I hunted
every day, and would kill every hawk, bird, and squirrel that I could
find. Others did the same; and it was a rule with us, that when we
stop'd at night, the hunters would throw all they killed in a pile, and
then we would make a general division among all the men. One evening I
came in, having killed nothing that day. I had a very sick man in my
mess, and I wanted something for him to eat, even if I starved myself.
So I went to the fire of a Captain Cowen, who commanded my company after
the promotion of Major Russell, and informed him that I was on the hunt
of something for a sick man to eat. I knowed the captain was as bad off
as the rest of us, but I found him broiling a turkey's gizzard. He said
he had divided the turkey out among the sick, that Major Smiley had
killed it, and that nothing else had been killed that day. I immediately
went to Smiley's fire, where I found him broiling another gizzard. I
told him, that it was the first turkey I had ever seen have two
gizzards. But so it was, I got nothing for my sick man. And now seeing
that every fellow must shift for himself, I determined that in the
morning, I would come up missing; so I took my mess and cut out to go
ahead of the army. We know'd that nothing more could happen to us if we
went than if we staid, for it looked like it was to be starvation any
way; we therefore determined to go on the old saying, root hog or die.
We passed two camps, at which our men, that had gone on before us, had
killed Indians. At one they had killed nine, and at the other three.
About daylight we came to a small river, which I thought was the Scamby;
but we continued on for three days, killing little or nothing to eat;
till, at last, we all began to get nearly ready to give up the ghost,
and lie down and die; for we had no prospect of provision, and we knew
we couldn't go much further without it.
We came to a large prairie, that was about six miles across it, and in
this I saw a trail which I knowed was made by bear, deer, and turkeys.
We went on through it till we came to a large creek, and the low grounds
were all set over with wild rye, looking as green as a wheat field. We
here made a halt, unsaddled our horses, and turned them loose to graze.
One of my companions, a Mr. Vanzant, and myself, then went up the low
grounds to hunt. We had gone some distance, finding nothing; when at
last, I found a squirrel; which I shot, but he got into a hole in the
tree. The game was small, but necessity is not very particular; so I
thought I must have him, and I climbed that tree thirty feet high,
without a limb, and pulled him out of his hole. I shouldn't relate such
small matters, only to show what lengths a hungry man will go to, to
get something to eat. I soon killed two other squirrels, and fired at a
large hawk. At this a large gang of turkeys rose from the cane brake,
and flew across the creek to where my friend was, who had just before
crossed it. He soon fired on a large gobler, and I heard it fall. By
this time my gun was loaded again, and I saw one sitting on my side of
the creek, which had flew over when he fired; so I blazed away, and down
I brought him. I gathered him up, and a fine turkey he was. I now began
to think we had struck a breeze of luck, and almost forgot our past
sufferings, in the prospect of once more having something to eat. I
raised the shout, and my comrade came to me, and we went on to our camp
with the game we had killed. While we were gone, two of our mess had
been out, and each of them had found a bee tree. We turned into cooking
some of our game, but we had neither salt nor bread. Just at this
moment, on looking down the creek, we saw our men, who had gone on
before us for provisions, coming to us. They came up, and measured out
to each man a cupfull of flower. With this, we thickened our soup, when
our turkey was cooked, and our friends took dinner with us, and then
went on.
We now took our tomahawks, and went and cut our bee-trees, out of which
we got a fine chance of honey; though we had been starving so long that
we feared to eat much at a time, till, like the Irish by hanging, we got
used to it again. We rested that night without moving our camp; and the
next morning myself and Vanzant again turned out to hunt. We had not
gone far, before I wounded a fine buck very badly; and while pursuing
him, I was walking on a large tree that had fallen down, when from the
top of it, a large bear broke out and ran off. I had no dogs, and I was
sorry enough for it; for of all the hunting I ever did, I have always
delighted most in bear hunting. Soon after this, I killed a large buck;
and we had just gotten him to camp, when our poor starved army came up.
They told us, that to lessen their sufferings as much as possible,
Captain William Russell had had his horse led up to be shot for them to
eat, just at the moment that they saw our men returning, who had carried
on the flour.
We were now about fourteen miles from Fort Decatur, and we gave away all
our meat, and honey, and went on with the rest of the army. When we got
there, they could give us only one ration of meat, but not a mouthful of
bread. I immediately got a canoe, and taking my gun, crossed over the
river, and went to the Big Warrior's town. I had a large hat, and I
offered an Indian a silver dollar for my hat full of corn. He told me
that his corn was all "_shuestea_," which in English means, it was all
gone. But he showed me where an Indian lived, who, he said, had corn. I
went to him, and made the same offer. He could talk a little broken
English, and said to me, "You got any powder? You got bullet?" I told
him I had. He then said, "Me swap my corn, for powder and bullet." I
took out about ten bullets, and showed him; and he proposed to give me a
hat full of corn for them. I took him up, mighty quick. I then offered
to give him ten charges of powder for another hat full of corn. To this
he agreed very willingly. So I took off my hunting-shirt, and tied up my
corn; and though it had cost me very little of my powder and lead, yet I
wouldn't have taken fifty silver dollars for it. I returned to the camp,
and the next morning we started for the Hickory Ground, which was thirty
miles off. It was here that General Jackson met the Indians, and made
peace with the body of the nation.
We got nothing to eat at this place, and we had yet to go forty-nine
miles, over a rough and wilderness country, to Fort Williams. Parched
corn, and but little even of that, was our daily subsistence. When we
reached Fort Williams, we got one ration of pork and one of flour, which
was our only hope until we could reach Fort Strother.
The horses were now giving out, and I remember to have seen thirteen
good horses left in one day, the saddles and bridles being thrown away.
It was thirty-nine miles to Fort Strother, and we had to pass directly
by Fort Talladego, where we first had the big Indian battle with the
eleven hundred painted warriors. We went through the old battle ground,
and it looked like a great gourd patch; the sculls of the Indians who
were killed still lay scattered all about, and many of their frames were
still perfect, as the bones had not separated. But about five miles
before we got to this battle ground, I struck a trail, which I followed
until it led me to one of their towns. Here I swap'd some more of my
powder and bullets for a little corn.
I pursued on, by myself, till some time after night, when I came up with
the rest of the army. That night my company and myself did pretty well,
as I divided out my corn among them. The next morning we met the East
Tennessee troops, who were on their road to Mobile, and my youngest
brother was with them. They had plenty of corn and provisions, and they
gave me what I wanted for myself and my horse. I remained with them
that night, though my company went across the Coosa river to the fort,
where they also had the good fortune to find plenty of provisions. Next
morning, I took leave of my brother and all my old neighbours, for there
were a good many of them with him, and crossed over to my men at the
fort. Here I had enough to go on, and after remaining a few days, cut
out for home. Nothing more, worthy of the reader's attention, transpired
till I was safely landed at home once more with my wife and children. I
found them all well and doing well; and though I was only a rough sort
of a backwoodsman, they seemed mighty glad to see me, however little the
quality folks might suppose it. For I do reckon we love as hard in the
backwood country, as any people in the whole creation.
But I had been home only a few days, when we received orders to start
again, and go on to the Black Warrior and Cahawba rivers, to see if
there was no Indians there. I know'd well enough there was none, and I
wasn't willing to trust my craw any more where there was neither any
fighting to do, nor any thing to go on; and so I agreed to give a young
man, who wanted to go, the balance of my wages if he would serve out my
time, which was about a month. He did so, and when they returned, sure
enough they hadn't seen an Indian any more than if they had been all the
time chopping wood in my clearing. This closed my career as a warrior,
and I am glad of it, for I like life now a heap better than I did then;
and I am glad all over that I lived to see these times, which I should
not have done if I had kept fooling along in war, and got used up at it.
When I say I am glad, I just mean I am glad I am alive, for there is a
confounded heap of things I an't glad of at all. I an't glad, for
example, that the "government" moved the deposites, and if my military
glory should take such a turn as to make me president after the
general's time, I'll move them back; yes, I, the "government," will
"take the responsibility," and move them back again. If I don't, I wish
I may be shot.
But I am glad that I am now through war matters, and I reckon the reader
is too, for they have no fun in them at all; and less if he had had to
pass through them first, and then to write them afterwards. But for the
dullness of their narrative, I must try to make amends by relating some
of the curious things that happened to me in private life, and when
_forced_ to become a public man, as I shall have to be again, if ever I
consent to take the presidential chair.