Part 24

Harrison now pressed on to Prophet's Town, and found it absolutely deserted, for the Indians had decided to abandon everything, and had left behind their corn, chickens, hogs, household furniture, and firearms. As the rangers swept onward, thirty-seven of their own numbers lay dead upon the famous field of Tippecanoe, while one hundred and thirty-seven wounded limped to the carts in their rear. The redskin loss was never known, but it must have been much larger than that of the whites. Flushed with victory, the Americans soon destroyed the Indian village, and then returned to Vincennes, well satisfied with such a complete victory. Harrison, himself, had won the admiration of his countrymen; so much so, that thirty years later he was elected President of the United States, mainly because of the fame which he won in this frontier battle. The campaign slogan of "Tippecanoe (as Harrison was called) and Tyler, too," swept over the country like fire, and roused an enthusiasm for the brave leader which has seldom been equalled. It resulted in his election to the position of Chief Executive by a magnificent majority.

Tecumseh had been away at the time of the battle, and, when he heard of the defeat of his own people, he was furious with rage. Hastening to Prophet's Town, he found only ashes and desolation where once had been stores, ammunition, arms, and houses. Filled with mortification and anger, he searched for his brother, the Prophet, and when he found him, shook him by the hair, so great was his resentment; for he had told the Indians to fight no battle during his absence. The Prophet was ever afterwards an object of contempt, and, as he would walk through the Indian village, the boys would yell and jeer at him, while the braves would turn their backs when they saw him coming.

Tecumseh wrote to General Harrison that he now desired to go to Washington and visit the Great Father, a request that was granted him. But he was told that he must go alone, and without a retinue; an answer which wounded the spirit of the proud savage so deeply that, when war broke out between the British and Americans a few years later (the War of 1812), he joined the English army in Canada, saying: "I have taken sides with my father, the King, and I will suffer my bones to bleach upon the shore of the great lakes, before I will recross the American territory to take part in any council of neutrality."

In the fighting of the War of 1812 this great chief showed that he could lead an army almost as well as a white man. His military talent was so great that he was made a Brigadier General, a position which, to my knowledge, no other American Indian has ever held among white troops, except General Ely S. Parker, who commanded a detachment of regulars in the Army of the Potomac during the War of the Rebellion. The celebrated Shawnee fought bravely at a fierce fight at Brownstown, and was also at the siege of Detroit, with about seven hundred warriors, when this city capitulated to the British. The whole American frontier was open to the ravages of the Indians and English after this event, and under General Proctor, the combined forces of redskins and redcoats swept down upon the border fortress of Fort Meigs, and here captured a number of prisoners, although they did not take the stockade.

The Indians under Tecumseh numbered about eighteen hundred in the fighting at this place, and, giving way to their instincts, they tomahawked all that they could. General Proctor made no attempt to stop them, but was looking calmly at their fiendish work, when he saw Tecumseh galloping forward at great speed. Reaching the scene of slaughter, the savage leaped from his horse, and seizing two Indians by the throat, knocked them to the ground. Then, drawing his tomahawk and scalping knife, he cried out: "He of you who injures another prisoner will be killed by Tecumseh. How dare you wreak vengeance upon defenseless men? Cowards! Begone!" Cowed by his consuming wrath, the savages slunk away, while the great chief, turning to Proctor, said: "Why, General, did you not stop this awful massacre?"

"Sir," replied the British General, "your Indians cannot be restrained."

"Begone!" thundered Tecumseh. "You are not fit to command! Go home and put on the petticoat of a squaw."

Shortly after this the celebrated Shawnee noticed a small group of Indians near by, who were standing about some prisoners. "Yonder are four of your people who have been taken prisoners," said Colonel Elliot to him. "You may do as you please with them." Tecumseh, therefore, walked over to the group and found four Shawnees, who, while fighting on the side of the Americans, had been unable to escape the British regulars, and had been captured. "Friends," said he, "Colonel Elliot has placed you in my charge, and I will send you back to your nation to have a talk with your people." So saying, he took them with him for some distance, and then sent two of his warriors to accompany them to their own chiefs, where they were discharged, under the promise that they would never fight again against the British during the war.

The disasters to the Americans led the Government to collect a larger army, which was placed under the command of General Harrison, the hero of Tippecanoe. Captain Oliver H. Perry built a fleet on Lake Erie, sailed out to attack the British boats, and defeated them. When he had done so, Harrison moved upon Fort Malden, where both Proctor and Tecumseh were stationed. The former burned the fort and retreated with Tecumseh's Indians, meaning to join the other British forces at Niagara, but before the retreat (when Harrison was at Fort Meigs) Tecumseh had sent him a personal challenge, which ran:

"GENERAL HARRISON: I have with me eight hundred braves. You have an equal number in your hiding place. Come out with them and give me battle. You talked like a brave when we met at Vincennes, and I respected you, but now you hide behind logs, and in earth, like a groundhog. Give me answer! TECUMSEH."

Harrison, however, refused to come out, and, as Proctor decided to retreat, Tecumseh seriously meditated a withdrawal from the contest. "You always told us that you would never draw your foot off British ground," said he to the English commander. "Now, father, we see that you are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our Father's conduct to a fat dog which carries its tail on its back, but, when affrighted, drops it between its legs and runs off. Father, listen! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land, neither are we sure that they have done so by water; we, therefore, wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should he make his appearance. If we are defeated, we will then retreat with our father.

"Father, you have got the arms and ammunition which our great father sent to his red children. If you have an idea of going away, give them to us and you may go, and welcome. For us, our lives are in the hand of the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our land, and if it be his will, we wish to leave our bones upon them."

But Proctor would listen to no such talk, and pretended, from time to time, that he would halt and give battle. Much to the chagrin of the redskins, he kept on moving. Finally he halted on the river Thames, in Michigan, near a Moravian town, and told Tecumseh that he would here fight it out with the advancing Americans. The great chief, himself, chose the ground for battling, with a marsh on one flank and a stream upon the other. "Brother warriors," said he to his chiefs, "we are about to enter an engagement from which I shall, doubtless, never return; my body will remain upon the field of battle." Then unbuckling his sword, he handed it to a chief, remarking: "When my son becomes a noted warrior, and able to wield a sword, give this to him."

Proctor had planted his guns in the highway and had deployed his regulars between them and a little marsh. Another marsh was five hundred yards further on, to the right, and here the Indians under Tecumseh were stationed, together with some British regulars. The rest of the Indians were sent out in front, upon the extreme right, in a position just in front of the swampy bottom of the larger marsh. The ground was nearly covered with an open growth of trees, without underbrush, so that there was little impediment to fighting. Harrison, as he came up, placed his mounted infantry in front, for this was his strongest force, composed of a splendid body of Kentucky frontiersmen under Colonel Richard M. Johnson, all of whom were well used to border warfare. The infantry was in the rear, with a considerable body on the left flank, turned at right angle to the line, so as to face the Indians in the marsh. They were told to advance at the blast of the bugle and to fight as they had done at Tippecanoe--commands which they obeyed quite faithfully. At the shrill note of the horn the horsemen trotted forward. Then, as the British regulars began to pepper them with bullets, they gave a wild cheer, galloped on, and soon were charging right into the lines of the English.

Proctor knew that he was badly wanted by the Americans, because of his numerous massacres of defenseless non-combatants, and so leaped into a two-horse vehicle in order to escape. But a dozen well-mounted men galloped after him, and seeing that he was about to be captured, the faint-hearted Britisher jumped to the earth, took to the woods, and got safely off. Tecumseh's men, meanwhile, stood their ground and did not, at first, give way before the American advance. But soon the savages posted upon the extreme right before the marsh ran wildly into the woods. The valiant Tecumseh was shot in the arm, but, disdaining to fly, stood up manfully, while his wild, inspiring war whoop was loudly heard above the din of battle. Thus he was holding his own men to their work, when the Kentucky cavalry, having dispersed Proctor's regulars, returned to the field of battle. Forming for the attack, they rushed, with a wild cheer, upon the mixed battalion of reds and whites. Johnson, himself, was soon near the great chief and shot at him with his pistol. Tecumseh fell, whether from this shot, or not, is not definitely known. The tide of conflict rolled by the prostrate form of the mighty Shawnee, and, with fierce cheers of victory, the Americans chased the now routed British and Indians into the forest, securing a complete and overwhelming victory.

Near the battlefield, where a large oak lay prostrate by a willow marsh, the faithful Shawnees buried Tecumseh, after the American army, flushed with success, returned to the United States. The British Government granted a pension to the widow of the noted warrior, and to his son gave a sword. The willows and rose-bushes now grow thick above the mound where repose, in silence and solitude, the ashes of the mighty chief of the Shawnees. He struggled in vain against the inevitable, and his simple grave is only one of the many monuments which mark the restless, overwhelming advance of the conquering Americans. He fought a good fight. His fame is secure upon the golden pages of history.

WEATHERFORD: THE CREEK CONSPIRATOR AND FEARLESS FIGHTER

Among the tribes who swore allegiance to Tecumseh, none were more powerful than the Creeks, who occupied a vast stretch of country in the present states of Alabama and Tennessee. These Indians continued their warfare against the whites, long after the death of the famous leader of the Shawnees, and, under the guidance of Weatherford, did great damage to the white pioneers of this part of the country. Weatherford was an extremely handsome savage of fine face and figure. He was possessed of great physical strength and dauntless courage, but he was treacherous and merciless to those who fell into his clutches, and was never known to give quarter to a fallen enemy. For this reason he was hated and despised by the backwoodsmen and pioneers of the Mississippi Territory.

The Creeks began their depredations upon the frontier at the same time that Tecumseh's warriors were fighting against Harrison, and soon the whites of the southern country were forced to fly to the forts and stockades for protection. The Southwestern militia was called out to repel the attacks of the savages, and, under Governor Claiborne, about two hundred volunteers took station in a strong stockade called Fort Mimms, situated on Lake Tensas, Alabama, and crowded with refugees. A Major Beasley was placed in charge of these soldiers, while Claiborne left for the interior of the state in order to raise more troops. "Respect your enemy, and be always ready to meet him," said he to Major Beasley, when he was about to depart. "The Indians are crafty, and one never knows when they are to debouch from the dark recesses of the forest. Be continually upon your guard, and do not fail to have sentries at all times upon watch."

"I promise you that I will use every caution against attack," Beasley replied. "Do not fear, it will be impossible for the Indians to enter our stockade."

"Very good," the Governor answered, as he turned to go. "I will be at Fort Early, the next stockade, when the Indians advance, be sure and dispatch a runner to me so that I can send you reinforcements, if attacked." So saying, he turned on his heel and soon had mounted his horse.

Not many days later, a negro, who had been sent to a planter's house for a supply of corn, came running into Fort Mimms in great agitation. "De Injuns am comin'," he wailed. "De red men done took a feller dat was wid me an' kill him. O Lawzy, Lawzy. I'se been runnin' lak er rabbit!"

But Major Beasley scoffed at the news. "I don't believe you, Sambo," said he. "For several of my own men have been out scouting and have reported no sign of Indians."

A few days after this, three negroes, while looking for cattle which had strayed from the fort, suddenly ran upon a large body of savages in the woods. Hastily returning to the stockade, they reported the matter, with much fear and trembling. "I will send out scouts at once," said the commandant of the fort, "and will see if these reports are true." So a dozen rangers were immediately dispatched into the forest to discover signs of the Indians. They remained away for a day, and, upon their return, stated that they had seen no trace of the Creeks, and that they believed that the negro had told an untruth. Consequently he was flogged--an act of injustice which was to injure the white refugees in Fort Mimms more than they expected, or imagined.

Upon the following Monday this same negro was driving some cattle to pasture, when he saw several Indians in a cleared space, who were watching him carefully, as if it was their intention to capture him when he advanced near their position. Consequently he ran back to Fort Mimms in a great state of agitation, leaving his cattle to the tomahawks of the red men. But he did not report the near approach of the Indians, as he feared another thrashing, and so, when the shrill warwhoops of the savages soon echoed from the forest, the inhabitants of the stockade were totally unprepared to meet the assault of the red men. To the number of fifteen hundred they suddenly debouched from the fringe of forest near the fort, and made a dash for the palisade. Weatherford was in command, and, from a position slightly in the rear of the line, directed the operations of his men.

It was a hot day in August. The guard before the doorway of the fort had been relaxed, and the soldiers lolled indolently in the shade of some trees. The heavy gates were wide open. The garrison was scattered about the enclosure, little expecting an onslaught from without, while several small children were picking wild flowers near the edge of the forest. Major Beasley, himself, was occupied in one of the buildings, when loud yells and rifle shots warned him of an Indian attack. Rushing into the open, he saw, to his dismay, that the Creeks had entered the stockade through the gates which had been negligently standing ajar, and, although several men in buckskin had endeavored to close them, the onrush of the Indians swept all before them. In a moment the frontiersmen and savages were engaged in a desperate struggle. The whites, realizing that it was a death grapple, vainly strove to keep the followers of Weatherford from penetrating the stockade, and, although there were nearly three hundred men opposed to the redskins, it was soon evident that they could scarcely hold their own against the furious attack of the Creek warriors. Every officer of the American troops was killed in his tracks. Yet the remaining frontier fighters were unable to drive the Indians from the entrance, and, in spite of their well-aimed rifle shots, the savages gradually won their way into the stockade. A Lieutenant, badly wounded, was carried into a blockhouse by two of the women, but he insisted upon being taken back into the fight, and was soon again in the thick of the mêlée, where he was shot through the body by an arrow and killed.

It was now about eleven o'clock. So many of the whites had been killed that the rest had to seek safety in one of the blockhouses, where, with both doors and windows barricaded, they endeavored to make a last resistance to the yelping Creeks. The women and children were first huddled in the centre of the building, but soon some of the women took up muskets and aided the soldiers in the defense of this last resort. The fighting was most furious at this moment, and, with a heavy bar, the Creeks endeavored to break down the doorway. Some others rolled lighted faggots against the sides of the building, and, taking fire, the miserable whites were burned to cinders. Seventeen members of the garrison broke through the line of yelping Indians and escaped, while Major Beasley, himself, was consumed by the burning embers. When night fell, all was ruin and desolation, where once had stood the strong and presumably unpenetrable fortress of the frontier, while the shrill wailing of the Indian women sounded loud above the crackling of the burning stockade which Weatherford ordered to be set on fire.

When the news of this frightful massacre at Fort Mimms reached the interior, the white settlers were roused to indescribable wrath against the Creek warriors. Steps were immediately taken to guard against a further advance of the Indians, and the sum of $300,000 was donated by the state of Tennessee for raising and equipping a number of troops to repel the invaders and, if possible, to cripple their operations. Five thousand rangers were soon collected on the frontier, and their leadership given to a then undistinguished soldier, called Andrew Jackson, who was later to become President of the United States, because of the very qualities of dauntless courage which he was to exhibit in the trying Indian campaign before him. He had not yet fully recovered from a severe wound received in a duel with pistols, but, although badly crippled, he had sufficient strength to give personal attention to the drill and discipline of the splendid body of Indian fighters under his command. Colonel Coffee, Davy Crockett, and Sam Houston, all famous frontiersmen, were among his soldiers, and, although thoroughly untrained in the European method of warfare, they were well able to handle a body of Indians of twice their strength.

After the massacre at Fort Mimms, Weatherford had dropped back into his own territory, where his followers had towns and resources. Some Georgian troops, under Colonel Coffee, marched against him, but, learning that Jackson was coming up, waited for him at Ditto's Landing, on the Tennessee. Here many of the white troops rebelled, as there was not a sufficiency of food, but, brought to terms by the conduct and oratory of the indomitable Jackson, they consented to a further advance into the territory held by the warlike Creeks.

Learning of the advance of this formidable body of rangers, many of the Creeks, including Chief Chinnaboy, gave themselves up to the whites and swore allegiance to them. An Indian runner hastened to Weatherford, urging him to capitulate without a struggle, but to this the chief replied:

"I will never give in as long as I have ten men to fight behind me. You can tell Chinnaboy that he is a traitorous coward, and that, if I meet him, I will deal with him in the same manner that I would with one of my white enemies."

The wily Creek leader also exhibited traits of excellent generalship, for, when the combined forces of Coffee and Jackson reached the vicinity of his encampment at Ten Islands, he ordered a retreat of his followers to a well-fortified town at Tallushatches (now Jacksonville, Alabama), on the Southern shore of the Coosa River. Jackson's men were suffering still from lack of provisions and many were mutinous, but the remarkable leader kept them at work with promises of future pay and honors, and, when news was brought that a large force of Creeks was besieging a friendly chief called Path Killer, he divided his army. A portion, under Colonel Coffee, was sent to attack Tallushatches, while the rest were dispatched to the assistance of Path Killer.

Colonel Coffee had only nine hundred men with him, and sent forward only a few of his soldiers to attack the Indian stockade and then to retreat. He thus hoped to entice the red men from their strong position, and his plan was entirely successful. After making a vigorous advance against the Creeks, his soldiers began to fall back, and then to run away. The Indians hotly pursued, thinking that they had the white men at their mercy. But this is exactly what Coffee wished them to do. His greater force was lying in ambuscade, and, as the painted warriors rushed, yelping, after his flying column, his other soldiers poured vigorous broadsides into their ranks.

Dismayed and terrified, the followers of Weatherford now turned to retreat, but the Americans surrounded them entirely. Then ensued a sanguinary, hand-to-hand encounter. Some of the red warriors broke through the surrounding line and ran back to their village, where they hid in the tepees. As long as they had power to move a limb, they fought like tigers at bay. But the white troops soon overcame all resistance, and killed all of those who had, such a short time before, rushed victoriously against them. Five of the Americans only were killed, and forty-one were wounded, while about two hundred Indians were put to death.

Weatherford was not with this division of his forces, but, with a more powerful contingent, was besieging the friendly Path Killer at Fort Talladega. Jackson hurried to the relief of this place, and, because of very swift marching, arrived there much sooner than the Creeks had expected. But Weatherford was not taken by surprise, and hurled his warriors against the militia with such fury that they gave away. Jackson quickly brought up some mounted rangers, who charged the oncoming redskins with a will. In spite of Weatherford's example and exhortations, his red warriors now broke and ran. Three miles off was a range of densely wooded mountains, and to this the Creeks hastened as fast as their nimble limbs would carry them, while the Americans followed in hot pursuit. Fully a thousand savages fell before the onrush of the men in fringed buckskin, while but fifteen of the American riflemen were killed.

As the Creeks, weary and disgruntled, rested in the security of the mountains, a warrior approached Weatherford, and said:

"Great Chief, I see that we can do nothing against these whites. They will conquer us, no matter how long we resist. I, for one, am going to give myself up. As for you, you can continue the war if you so will, but it will be useless."