USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 5
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The Indians were at last forced to take to the timber for safety. From their sheltered position they pelted the stockade with arrows and bullets, but Oconostota began to see that he could not take the fort by storm. About the time that he was forming this conclusion a spy sent by Robertson brought word to the Cherokee camp that Virginia troops were coming at once to help the Wataugans, which determined the Indian chief to turn back and give up the siege. He began at once to retrace his steps over the warpath, leading his warriors toward Echota, on the Little Tennessee River. Like a serpent in danger of its life, the Indian army trailed back to its hiding place in the forest, only
Old Tales Retold.
pausing on the way to take up Mrs. Bean and her guards.
The captive was still kept unhurt. Oconostota did not desire her death. But no sooner had they reached Echota than Dragging Canoe began to insist that she should die. He declared that the woman ought to be burned at the stake. Oconostota argued against such a course. But Dragging Canoe was in a bad temper over his defeat at Island Flats, and insisted upon the sacrifice of Mrs. Bean. As Oconostota dared not op- pose too violently the will of the wounded chief, who was a man of power in the nation, he finally consented to the death of the captive. The time was fixed for her to be burned, and the day was set aside as an Indian holiday.
Mrs. Bean had but one hope of being spared. If Nancy Ward, the prophetess of the Cherokees, who exercised the final power of sparing life or condemn- ing to death, would only lift her hand, she would be saved. But that hope failed. Her appeal to the be- loved woman was made in vain. No sign of mercy was shown.
On the appointed day the captive was led to the center of the beloved square in the beloved town of Echota, where she was bound hand and foot to the stake. Dry sticks and fagots were piled around her limbs, and all was in readiness for the torch. But it was the custom of the Indians before the fire was lighted to torment the victims with clubs and stones and knives. The first stage of Mrs. Bean's sufferings began amid a din of yells and gibes, as her tormentors circled around her, when suddenly the noise ceased. A hush had fallen on the crowd. With one accord
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they moved back and left the captive in the center of the square alone, except for the beloved woman, who had suddenly appeared at Mrs. Bean's side-they knew not how. The presence of her stately form among them at that moment, seemed to the Indians as mys- terious as if she had been a visitor from the spirit world. No one had seen her coming, yet there she stood with rebuke in her clear, dark eyes. In strange, inhaled tones, she spoke to them, commanding them, with uplifted hands, to unbind the captive in the name of the Great Good Spirit.
The most reckless among them ventured not to dis- obey the prophetess, through whom they believed they heard the will of the Guardian Spirit of the Cherokees. Mrs. Bean was unbound without delay. She was con- ducted by her deliverer to the sacred mystery lodge, where she was kindly sheltered until she was sent back to Watauga, several weeks later, under escort of a band of trusted warriors.
Again the prophetess had redeemed her promise to James Robertson that she would always befriend the settlers of Watauga. Once more she had proved her- self worthy of the title which has been given her by grateful historians, and earned the right to be remem- bered by us as the "Pocahontas of the West."
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VI. INCIDENTS OF EARLY TIMES.
IN olden times, around Tennessee firesides, many tales of pioneer life were told which have since been forgotten. We seldom hear nowadays of the man who gave his name to Spencer's tree; and the story of Nancy Ward, the beloved woman of the Cherokee nation, is almost unknown among us. Few of us realize the importance of Charlotte Robertson's ride when she saved the fort at the Bluff, and we are un- familiar with the anecdotes which our forefathers loved to relate of Castleman, the marvelous marksman, who never fired his trusty rifle "Betsy" without bring- ing down game. Neither do we hear now of the pioneers Mansco and Bledsoe, nor of Capt. John Rains, the noted hunter who supplied the settlement with meat by killing thirty-two bears in one winter, within seven miles of Nashville ; nor do we repeat the tales, once well known, concerning Timothy De Monbreun, who lived in a cave high up on the bank of the Cum- berland River.
Of De Monbreun it is said that long ago, as early as 1760, when the Cumberland county was an uninhab- ited wilderness, he came from Kaskaskia, Ill., by water, to the Salt Lick which is now called the Nash- ville Sulphur Spring. Floating down the Ohio with two boatmen to row his little French Canadian trading boat, loaded with trinkets and blankets, he came cau-
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tiously toward the unknown country in search of sav- age customers for his trade. Upon reaching the mouth of the Cumberland, so the story runs, the ad- venturers entered its water and rowed upstream as far as the Bluff, where they found the sulphur spring branch flowing into the Cumberland. They paddled up the small stream as far as the boat could go, and then paused to look about them. The crew were thirsty and began to dip out water to drink. The first mouthfuls caused them surprise. "Salt as Lot's wife," cried one boatman in English, making a wry mouth ; "Sulphur," said the other in Portuguese, while De Monbreun made the same announcement in French. Sipping and tasting again, they began to debate as to whether or not this was a good place for a trading . post. After much consideration they concluded that "where there is salt there are buffaloes, and where there are buffaloes Indians are sure to come." This opinion was confirmed when they had examined the broad, untimbered bottom land around the spring from which the stream issued. A thick growth of cane covered the open space, and through it were numerous paths leading to the lick. These paths and the thou- sands of buffalo hoof prints in the mud close about the spring made them feel sure that big game was plentiful. From this they argued that Indian hunt- ers would come often to a place so favorable for hunting, and they began to look about for a good sit- uation for the camp. Between the spring and the river they found an artificial mound of earth about sixty feet high and very large around the base. They selected it as a safe site for the camp, considering that from its great height they would be able to see en-
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emies at a distance if any should approach. It was also a good place from which to keep a sharp lookout for customers. Some one before them had evidently been of the same mind, for they found there the re- mains of a hut of upright poles, and upon the old site they built their own lodge.
At the close of the day's labor the men camped for the night near the spring, but bright and early next morning they climbed the mound with packs of mer- chandise on their shoulders. In a short while the bales were opened, and soon afterwards the bushes and shrubs on the mound seemed to blossom with gaudy wares. Strands of beads were hung from limb to limb, tin cups and little pocket mirrors glistened in the morning sunlight, and yards of red cloth billowed with the breeze. The flaunting color and glittering trinkets were as attractive to savage eyes as candle- light to moths.
It was not long before the canes in the spring bot- tom began to tremble in a certain place as though a living creature were concealed in the thicket. De Monbreun's eyes were fastened on the spot in evident satisfaction. Being an experienced frontiersman, he had known what to expect. The bait had been skill- fully prepared. He had only to wait and watch for his human game. He was not surprised to see the canes shake again. This time they were cautiously parted and a red man peeped forth from his hiding place. Presently the red man rose to his full height. By degrees he drew nearer to the mound. The white man made no sign. He only smiled while the savage came slowly forward, stopping short now and then as if doubtful whether or not the palefaced strangers
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were friends or foes. Something in De Monbreun's appearance reassured him, and he continued to ad- vance until he was within speaking distance of the trader.
Although De Monbreun was a tall, muscular man, with an expression of daring about the mouth and the bold glance of an eagle in his black eyes, there was an attractive expression in his face which induced con- fidence. Altogether odd-looking, from his large head (covered with a fox skin cap with the brush left on) to his remarkably slender legs, wrapped in deerskin leggings, his picturesque appearance was completed by a dull blue shirt, over which he wore a scarlet vest -the same in which he had fought as a French sol- dier at the storming of Quebec. The trader made the red man understand that he was ready to exchange the goods displayed on the mound for buffalo hides and pelts of other kinds. Thereupon the savage vanished, and again De Monbreun waited. Several days later he returned with several others of his tribe, bringing peltries for trade.
In a short time the Frenchman was doing such a thriving business that he was led to make his home in the Cumberland wilderness. Seeking a safe dwelling place for himself and his wife, he chose for that pur- pose a cave in the cliffs of the river bank, a short dis- tance above the site of Nashville. This was his home for many years afterwards. He and his wife used a ladder to climb to the entrance, and drew it up after them, lest beasts or men might find the way to their cave.
De Monbreun learned from the Indians with whom he dealt that long before his time another Frenchman
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had traded with their forefathers on top of the same mound on which he had built his first lodge. In the Frenchman's employ, they said, was one Carleville or Charleville, a mere boy, who grew up in the business and afterwards (when the older man came no more) succeeded to the trade, which he carried on for many years. As De Monbreun, who next came to the spring, was also a Frenchman, the place came to be called the French Salt Lick.
De Monbreun made a great deal of money through bartering with the Indians. In fact, his business in- creased year by year until, in order to bring enough goods to the post and carry back to Kaskaskia the bales of peltries he had ready every few months, it became necessary for him to man a fleet of boats. He made frequent journeyings to Illinois himself for the purpose of selecting his wares. To keep pace with his large trade, he had to station hunters throughout the wildest parts of the Cumberland country to add to the stock of furs carried north by his boats.
In 1778, twelve months before Robertson came to the Bluffs, one of De Monbreun's hunters had fixed his camp on Stone's River near where the Hermitage is now situated. Being a hardy, courageous fellow, used to fighting wild beasts and Indians, he was not one to be easily frightened by any creature of flesh or blood ; but he was full of superstition, and had a terror of whatever was mysterious. He believed in ghosts, gob- lins, dragons, and giants, so it is not strange that he should be alarmed at a sight which met his eyes one day when he had returned from the hunt. There, near the door of his hut, impressed in the soft mud, he saw a number of footprints of a size which amazed
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him. They were larger than any human track he had ever seen. The hunter was used to the sight of Indians of great height, but he had never seen one who left a track as large as the print in the mud at which he now gazed in astonishment. He examined it narrowly, stooping to measure its length and breadth while he figured in his mind the height and strength of the man who had left it there that very day. In nervous dread of seeing its owner at his elbow, he arose and looked nervously about him. "Surely," said he, in a half whisper, "I have come into a land of giants. One of them has already vis- ited my cabin. If he finds me here, I am a doomed man." Stricken with fear, he turned his back on his lodge and ran as if he were pursued to the river bank. With never a look behind, he plunged into the stream and swam across to the other shore, where he fled as fast as he could go into the woods. For days he roamed the forest, not knowing what direction to take. By chance he came to the Ohio River. From there he hastened on without stopping, and finally reached Kaskaskia, where he told about the giants who lived in the Cumberland country-marvelous tales, which made the people open their eyes in wonder.
It was not known until long afterwards that the large tracks had been made by a harmless pioneer named Thomas Sharpe Spencer, who had accidentally passed near the lodge in hunting. Spencer was in- deed a man of extraordinary size, but there was noth- ing ferocious about him. On the contrary, he was remarkably kind and gentle-hearted. Among the earliest of pioneers, he had visited the Cumberland country in 1776 in company with John Halliday to
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explore and hunt in the unknown forests. In his wanderings he happened to go some distance from his own lodge, which was near to Bledsoe's Lick, not far from where Gallatin was afterwards built, and in passing the hut of De Monbreun's hunter he had left there his footprints in the mud.
On this and all other expeditions along the Cum- berland Spencer was impressed with the variety and large size of the forest trees, as well as the richness of the soil and the abundance of long grass for pas- turage which he found throughout the country. He resolved to stay and plant a field in corn in the new country, instead of going back to the Holston settle- ment, as he had intended.
Halliday, his companion, did not care to stay; and when he found he could not persuade him, Spencer went with him as far as the border of Kentucky to put him safely that far on his way home. Kind and thoughtful to the last, the big man with the big heart broke in two pieces his long hunting knife and gave one-half to Halliday, who had unfortunately lost his own blade as he was about to take the perilous home- ward journey through Kentucky.
With only half a knife and his rifle, Spencer turned back into the forest and began to look out for a site for his lonely home. He was fortunate in finding not only a suitable place for a field, but there also he found ready to hand a large dwelling, vacant of a tenant. The foundations of the structure were fas- tened deep in the earth, the walls were tinted silver gray, the lofty roof was lichen green, and its fretted pinnacles towered toward the sky. The dwelling had a tall opening in one side, through which Spencer
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walked into the hollow of the great sycamore tree which was to be his home, and took possession of a spacious chamber which measured nearly eleven feet across and thirty feet or more around. * The new pro- prietor stood his gun against the wall, hung powder horn and drinking cup upon projections of the wood, and was ready for housekeeping. At nightfall he spread down a furry bearskin, rolled his blanket into a pillow, and lay down to sleep as serenely as if on a bed of down, in a house made with hands.
Spencer lived in his tree through the varying sea- sons of a full year, caring nothing for wind nor rain, and minding neither heat nor cold in his snug retreat. The tall sycamore known as Spencer's Tree stood many years after its tenant had passed away, and was long pointed out as an example of the magnificent growth found by the pioneers in our primeval forests.
Heroines as well as heroes of frontier life should have a place in our memory. There was Mrs. Mc- Ewen (afterwards the wife of the Rev. Samuel Doak), whose courageous spirit was shown at the siege of Houston Station (six miles from where Maryville stands). There was a garrison of only twelve white men to defend the place against the attack of more than a hundred Indians. At the first alarm the white men sprang to the portholes, while the women helped in various ways. "Give me the bullet molds," cried Mrs. McEwen. "We can surely mold the bullets while you men do the fighting." The next moment found her bending over the hearth of flagstones melt- ing lead and pouring it into the molds. As they were finished she dealt them out rapidly to one and
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another of the soldiers. While she was thus engaged, "ping !" came a bullet from without, leaping through a crack where the chinking had been shot out of the wall, and striking near where she knelt. With per- fect composure, Mrs. McEwen lifted her eyes to watch it rebound from the hard log wall and roll upon the floor ; then, snatching the flattened missile she quickly melted it and molded it into a new bullet, which she gave to her husband with the remark: "Here is a ball run out of the Indians' lead. Send it back to them as quickly as possible. It is their own; let them have it and welcome."
Of the same fearless type was Mrs. Gillespie in the Holston country. Her husband was leaving home one morning to be gone several days on business. She had gone outside with him to see him off, and did not turn to reënter the house until he was out of hearing distance. As she entered the door a band of Indians, who had been watching from a canebrake near the house, rose from their hiding place and trooped in after her.
Whatever might have been her feelings, the heroic woman's manner was calm as she bade the intruders welcome. Knowing full well that savages, like bad dogs, attack those who show fear of them, she hoped by being self-possessed to avoid danger. She took no notice when one of the warriors began, with a threatening glance at her, to draw his knife back and forth across his sleeve with a movement as if he were sharpening the blade. All the while he was walking nearer by degrees to the baby's cradle in the chimney corner. His eyes were still fixed on the helpless moth-
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er as he leaned over the child and made a sign with his finger of his intention to scalp the babe.
If Mrs. Gillespie had been weak at this moment, her child would have been speedily murdered. With nat- urally quick wit she realized that strategy alone could save him. Rushing to the open door, she began call- ing with all her might, as if help was close at hand: "White men, come home! Indians! Indians !"
Completely deceived by her false alarm, the sav- ages dashed out of the house in genuine fright, and fled pellmell down the hill toward the spring, where they scattered through the canebrake on the farther side of the branch and disappeared. But their escape was not for long. When Captain Gillespie returned and heard of their misconduct, he gathered his neigh- bors together, and, going out in pursuit of the band, he overtook them and punished them to his satisfaction.
George Mann's cabin was in the woods, twelve miles from the present situation of Knoxville. It was his first winter in "the new world west of the Alleghanies," and he did not know to what danger his little family might be exposed in the wilderness. He dreaded to leave home at any time lest wild beasts should attack them in his absence. To insure them some protection he loaded a gun and taught his wife how to fire it at a mark he had fastened to a tree. He then took great pains to show her how to load the weapon and how to set the double triggers, so that in case anything should happen while he was gone she might defend herself and their small children. This done, he placed the gun in its rack on the wall and, shouldering his
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other rifle, started off on a hunt to provide meat for the family table.
Mrs. Mann saw nothing of him all that day. To- ward evening she heard firing in the forest beyond their stable, and went outside the house expecting to meet her husband returning from the hunt. But though she waited long, he did not appear. Night came on and still he had not returned. She had made the house as secure as she could by closing the door and letting the wooden latch fall to its place. Her little ones had been put to bed, and she was still waiting for her husband's coming when she heard voices out- side laughing and talking. She sprang toward the door, feeling sure it was her husband with some neigh- bors. Her hand was on the latch when she stopped to listen. She could tell by this time that the words were spoken neither in English nor German nor French. There was only one other tongue in that country. The isolated woman realized that without a doubt Indians were almost at her threshold. She darted back into the room. With unnatural strength she dragged forward tables, benches, and other heavy furniture to barricade the door. For fear the children should cry or call, she piled pillows, quilts, and blankets on their bed to stifle their voices, Then she snatched the gun from its rack and placed herself to meet the danger. By this time the savages were beat- ing on the door. The woman inside stood quite still. Her gun was pointed toward the door, which the assailants were pounding with fists and tomahawks. The noise was appalling. Prizing with gun stocks and fence rails, they were trying with might and main to enter. No shriek or word came from the pioneer
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heroine. Only by being calm and quiet could she hope to save her children. The door began to give way, yet she did not utter a sound. She merely took a step forward and watched the crack widen. An opening was made almost wide enough for an Indian to squeeze through. Against the faint moonlight Mrs. Mann could see a struggling form in the crack with others pushing hard behind him. Seizing her oppor- tunity, she advanced and placed the muzzle of her gun almost against the foremost savage. The double triggers were set. There was an explosion, and three Indians fell outward, one upon another. The bullet had pierced the three in quick succession. Its deadly work and the perfect silence inside caused the assail- ants to imagine that the cabin was full of armed men. In this belief they took to their heels and fled-twenty- five warriors of them-from the fire of one lone wom- an.
George Mann never came back to his home. On returning late in the afternoon to his cabin he had been cut off by the same party of Indians, who afterwards tried to enter the house. It was the noise of the Indians' guns while they were killing her husband which Mrs. Mann had heard just before dark.
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VII. THE VOYAGE OF THE ADVENTURE.
AFTER a while, the people of Watauga, tired of strife, began to talk of a country still farther west, where it was thought there would be no trouble with Indians. Hunters who visited it spoke highly of a region sur- rounding a fine salt sulphur spring, called the French Salt Lick, near the "Bluffs," on the lower Cumberland, where there had formerly been a French trading post. They described the immediate vicinity of the spring as an opening surrounded by grand timber. The open- ing, they said, was covered with luxuriant grass and cane, and was frequented by buffalo and other game which came to lick the salt deposit around the spring. So great, they declared, were their numbers that "the bellowings of buffalo fell upon their ears before they came in view, like the roar of a cataract or the lumber- ings of a thunderstorm." The hunters also reported that the country was entirely free from Indians. There were, they said, no wigwams within hundreds of miles in any direction, and the vast hunting grounds lying between the Ohio and Cumberland Rivers had lately been peaceably purchased from the Cherokees. Colonel Henderson (the treaty maker) had bought it with the aid of Daniel Boone in a treaty with the Indians at Sycamore Shoals (Watauga), paying for the whole purchase fifty thousand dollars in blankets and trinkets. Colonel Henderson was now ready to /
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sell portions of the land to any persons who applied. There were many who were anxious to go to a spot which was distant on all sides from Indians. This was the chief object of the earliest emigrants to the Cumberland country in moving farther into the wil- derness. Peace, not war, was the desire of their hearts. This was the spirit in which the settlement at the French Salt Lick, where Nashville was later built, was first begun.
Among those who caught the western fever were Col. John Donelson, a noted frontier surveyor, and James Robertson, the head man of Watauga. A plan was set on foot by them to move with their own fam- ilies and others to the new country. There were two ways by which to get there. One was to go five hun- dred miles overland through the dangerous ground of Kentucky ; the other way was to take boat on the Holston, follow the current of that river and of the Tennessee, into which it flows, to the Ohio; then up to the mouth of the Cumberland and proceed up that stream to the "Big Salt Lick," making a course of two thousand miles by water. It was hard to say which route would be most hazardous. Finally, it was agreed that James Robertson should go in ad- vance, by way of Kentucky, taking with him his good friends George Freeland, William Neely, Edward Swanson, James Handly, and William Overall, who were men of tried faithfulness and courage. The rest of the men, with all the women and children, were to follow by water with Donelson on a fleet of thirty or more boats of various shapes and sizes, led by the good boat Adventure. Robertson's wife, Charlotte Reeves Robertson, with her five children, as well as
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