USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 8
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The chivalrous Sevier had devoted his life to the pioneers who lived on the Watauga and Nolli- chucky Rivers and in Carter's Valley. He had stood between them and British oppression with both his sword and his pen ; and by his daring exploits in fight- ing the Indians he had kept the whole people safe from danger of massacre through many a year. It was Sevier who helped to frame the simple, yet almost perfect, laws by which the frontier settlers had ruled
*There is a later version of this incident, so far as it re- lates to the scenes at Morganton, in which some of the details here narrated have been proved (through the painstaking re- search of Judge John Allison) to be incorrect. But this is the old tale as told around the firesides of our forefathers and as it is set down in all the earliest histories of Tennessee,
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themselves, long before North Carolina had reached out a hand either to claim or to protect them. It was Sevier who, at the very beginning of the American Revolution, begged North Carolina to allow his peo- ple to join in the fight for American independence, saying in his appeal to the mother State: "Annex us to North Carolina in such manner as may enable us to share in the glorious cause of liberty." Again it was Sevier who befriended the over-mountain men when they were cast off and neglected by North Car- olina after they had saved the Revolutionary cause at King's Mountain.
At that time there was special need of strong, good government in the settlements west of the Unaka Range. Yet that borderland had been abandoned not only by the parent State, but also by the Government at Washington, and left to stand alone without repre- sentation in any body of legislators. In their isolation the forsaken people of the wilderness thought it no harm to set up a State of their own, which they called Franklin, in honor of the great philosopher of that name. Sevier was entreated by them to become the Governor of Franklin, and he yielded to the wishes of his people. Herein lay his whole offense against North Carolina. The pardonable fault was made much of by an enemy who had long sought to injure Sevier.
Though the State of Franklin soon fell to pieces and the country came again under the rule of North Car- olina, the Governor of Franklin was called to account. Sevier's old foe prevailed on Governor Johnston, of North Carolina, to have a bench warrant issued for his arrest on July 29, 1788.
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A Famous Rescue.
It was on that warrant that Sevier had been appre- hended and was being conducted to Morganton for trial. But where John Sevier had one enemy he had a host of friends. The soldierly pioneers, as a rule, were ready, if necessary, to die for their idolized lead- er. A party of his devoted admirers, on hearing of his arrest, resolved to be present at his trial. Less than half a day's journey behind the distinguished prisoner, they also were riding toward Morganton. The faces of the horsemen were grave; and the eyes of James Cosby and Nathaniel Evans, the two who rode in front, were full of purpose. All looked like men bent on a desperate enterprise. Only now and then were their set features relaxed to smiles, as one or another of them would reach out a weather-beaten hand to pat affectionately Sevier's thoroughbred horse, which was being led in their midst. They could not but fondle the noble animal which was as fleet of foot and as obedient to his master's voice as the steed of an Arab sheik. Besides, the horse was in their confi- cence, as they believed. The intelligent beast seemed to know why he was following hard on Sevier's trail.
On arriving at Morganton the animal was tied to a tree in front of the courthouse door, where Sevier, glancing out, saw his favorite mount, and guessed why he was there. In the meantime his backwoods friends had come in and seated themselves in the courthouse to hear the proceedings. There was no chance for him to be cleared. Of this John Sevier was sure. In the eyes of the law he was guilty of treason. In the hearts of the people he was a patriot and a hero.
Everything was going against the prisoner when, in the midst of the trial, Cosby strode forward up the
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aisle and faced the judge on the bench. "Are you done with this man?" he demanded in a loud voice, pointing to Sevier. Never was a court room thrown into worse confusion. The judge changed color with anger and surprise, the officers of the court hurried to his side, while the crowd in attendance began talk- ing, shouting, and gesticulating. In the midst of the tumult Sevier had received a signal from Cosby's eye. Taking advantage of his opportunity, the pris- oner made a dash for the door, sprang on his horse, and was off for the border before he was missed. His friends quickly followed, clattering up the stony mountain road, and all were out of sight by the time the officers of the court had collected their wits again. Sevier was soon safe among his followers in his over- mountain haunts. No man dared afterwards to rearrest him. The people among whom he lived had become aroused, and it was not safe to go counter to their feel- ings. They proved their faithfulness to John Sevier by electing him to the best offices in their gift, over the head of his ancient enemy. He was made Brig- adier General of the Western Counties, and in course of time became the first Governor of Tennessee.
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TYPE OF PIONEER STOCKADE FORT.
XI.
THE BATTLE OF THE BLUFFS.
"CAESAR, stop the noise of those dogs!" called Mistress Charlotte Robertson from her cabin door in the stockade. It was in those long-ago times when Nashville was only a log fort, inclosing within its palisaded walls the simple homes of a dozen or more pioneer families on the bluffs of the Cumberland.
"I can't stop 'em, Mist'ess," replied little black Cæsar dolefully, with a troubled look toward the ken- nels, "dey hears sump'n."
The unusual behavior of the dogs was disquieting to Cæsar's mistress, the wife of Capt. James Rob- ertson, the head man of the Cumberland settlement. All that morning of April 2, 1781, to her discomfort, she had noticed that the trained bloodhounds of the fort, that were well able to scent an Indian two miles away, had been restless. For hours past they had been whining at intervals and lifting their noses as if on the scent of "redskins," although at that time there was no reason to believe that there was an Indian within a hundred miles of the place. It had certainly been months since any of the far-away Chickamaugas from Lookout Mountain or parties of Creeks from Georgia had ventured close to the fort at the Bluffs. These were the nearest Indian inhabitants except the friendly Chickasaws, west of the Tennessee River, whose war- riors visited the stockade only at rare intervals, and al- ways on errands of peace.
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Although the settlers had suffered greatly from sav- ages soon after they arrived in the Cumberland coun- try, they had now been for some time undisturbed. Feeling almost safe from Indian attacks of late, they used less and less precaution against surprise, and worked outside the walls without fear. In the fields they no longer, as at first, watched on all sides and no longer made it a rule to take their noonday rest sitting back to back, in order to guard against danger from every quarter at once.
The brave, hopeful spirit of the people increased as the spring advanced. The past winter had been hard from scarcity of bread; but summer was near, with promise of abundance, and April's soft breezes and blue sky, with the grass springing everywhere, made those light-hearted folks so happy that they forgot to borrow trouble. So it was that in the early morning of that fair spring day all the men in the fort had gone out in fine spirits to labor on their various farms. In every direction, plows were furrowing the soil. The smell of freshly turned earth mingled sweetly with the odor of wild grape blooms from the adjoining forests. Everything seemed to foretell peace and plenty.
Captain Robertson, among others, had hurried off at break of day to his fields on Richland Creek in the bend of the river (now West Nashville). Not a man or boy large enough to work was left at the fort except Captain Robertson's young son, Jonathan, who had gone hunting on the cedar-covered "knob" (our pres- ent capitol hill), just west of the stockade. Never was there less expectation of a day of bloodshed. Only the lad's mother was sad with a sense of coming evil. Though fully occupied with the younger children,
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especially her infant Felix (the first white child born on the site of Nashville), she gave many an anxious thought to her eldest boy during the morning. She shuddered to think of the dreadful things that might happen to the lad if Indians should find him wandering about the hill all alone. The whining of the hounds would not let her rest, and at length when the whole pack broke into a loud, dismal howl she sprang to her feet, thoroughly frightened. Out to the palisade wall she ran, and pressed her face to the pickets, peer- ing through the cracks for a glimpse of the knob. Not satisfied with the narrow view she had of the dark pyramid of cedars in the west, she darted to where a ladder was fastened against the wall and, to the as- tonishment of the other women in the fort, climbed rapidly to the "lookout" above the gateway. From the open sides she turned a searching gaze in all direc- tions. Not a sign of danger anywhere. There seemed nothing unusual about the knob, though she could not see much of its stony surface for the evergreens that clothed its southern and eastern slopes. Elsewhere around the fort the earth was almost hidden by newly budding trees and shrubs or covered with canebrakes. The only cleared space in sight was an opening about the Big French Salt Lick (sulphur spring), where lay abandoned fields that the pioneers had cultivated dur- ing only one season ; for June floods had swept away their entire crop of corn in the past year, and they had this year cleared new fields, not subject to over- flow, far out from the fort. "O, so far out !" sighed the anxious mother in the watch tower, reflecting that in case of danger help was miles away. Again she looked searchingly toward the knob. Presently she
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saw what made her sick with apprehension. In full view on a ledge of rock which projected from the hillside were three Indians in war paint. One of the savages was flourishing aloft a newly taken human scalp, while the others capered around him.
There was no room for doubt in the poor mother's mind that the bleeding lock had been taken from the head of her beloved son. Faint with the shock and the anguish of her great fear, she reeled as if about to fall. But the nerve of a pioneer held her upright. By strong force of will power the dizzy brain was steadied and the scattered senses recalled to serve her in this trying hour. There was work to be done, quick work, to save, if possible, her remaining children, and with them the entire settlement. No time must be lost in lamentations. The brave little mother has- tened down the ladder. She was soon surrounded by women who listened, wide-eyed and with blanched faces, to her tale of horror. Her own courage mount- ing higher as their terror grew, she said: "By some means we must get word to the men to prepare for an Indian attack. I see no other way than to go myself." Almost in the same breath she hurried Cæsar off to the stables, saying : "Go bring me a horse. Saddle him at once. Be quick!" And while she waited, the time was spent in encouraging her com- panions to guard the fort in her absence. "Barricade as well as you can," she said, "and hold out until help comes." On Cæsar's return he was told by his mis- tress to "get a gun and plenty of powder, and come with me."
She tenderly embraced her children at parting, and saying to her friends, "I leave my little children with
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you and God," she mounted for her perilous ride, with Cæsar behind her on the horse and little Felix in her lap, for indeed she could not leave the baby. The gates were held open for the three strange riders to go through. They closed with a quick clang as the frightened women left inside drew the heavy iron chains to make them fast.
Outside the gates Mistress Charlotte needed all her courage and plenty of caution besides to carry her safely through her undertaking. Indians were un- doubtedly lurking near the fort. To avoid being seen by them, it was necessary to skirt the base of the hill slowly under cover of the trees. Now and then there must be a pause to look and listen. Cæsar too was watchful and ready, quick as a wink, to hand his mistress the loaded gun if she should need it. All this while the baby, God bless him ! did not cry.
At last they reached a point where it was safe to hurry. With one arm Mistress Robertson frantically shook loose the bridle reins, while with the other she tightly held the baby as the horse fairly flew over the space between the hill and the Richland Creek farm. The laborers in the field heard the clatter of hoofs. They looked up, and there came a horse carrying three, full tilt. A woman's voice was heard screaming: "In- dians ! Indians ! They are about the fort !"
The men dropped the plow lines where they stood, reached for their guns, and leaped upon their horses. Plying whip and spur, they galloped away to the fort, hallooing along the way: "Indians at the Bluff! In- dians!" The alarm was given far and near. In a wonderfully short time nineteen soldier farmers had reached the fort. They set to work at once to scour
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the woods around them, looking for "Indian signs." By the time they returned from the search to report that not a trace of the savages could be found Mrs. Robertson with the baby and little black Cæsar were again safely inside the gates. Not only had the men failed to find the savages, but they had seen nothing of the missing lad in their hasty search. They had as- sembled in front of the fort, at a spot which is now near the foot of Church Street, and in grave per- plexity were talking over the matter when one of their number, James Manifee, lightly touched Robertson's arm as he said: "Look across the branch, Captain." Barely showing above a thicket of shrubs and cane along the stream since known as Wilson's Branch bristled a row of eagle feathers. That they were sticking straight up from the scalp locks of Indian warriors was easy to guess. If there was any doubt on the subject, it was quickly settled when the eagle tails suddenly shot up from the thicket, and with each bunch of feathers rose an Indian brave. The red- skins leaped the water, and came bounding toward the white men.
The whites waited only long enough to tie their horses to saplings before they started out on foot after the Indians and ran them back into the thicket. This was precisely what the cunning red men wanted. No sooner had the feet of the white men touched the border of the stream than a series of sharp whoops behind them caused them to look around. Between themselves and the fort they saw hundreds of In- dians running down a course that is now Church Street, and forming as they ran in a long half moon curve that extended almost to the river at each end.
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The Battle of the Bluffs.
"They have decoyed us into an ambush," called out Manifee. In truth the pioneers were almost sur- rounded by the savages, and completely cut off from the fort. The only way they saw open was toward the river. Seeing their desperate situation, Captain Robertson said: "We must fight it out here, or else fight our way out of here." The latter was what they wished to do, if possible. Each man's effort was to break through the Indian line and get to the fort. But the line was getting more compact as the wide half moon began closing in around them. By fre- quent adroit changes of position the savages kept them away from the stockade and pushed them nearer to the river. Fighting hard, the men were forced down the hill, and yet down, until they were hemmed in on the edge of the steep bluffs that overhang the river. The valiant nineteen there made a desperate struggle, grap- pling with Indians in places where a foothold could scarcely be found. Their chance for escape was small between the dangers of butchery on one hand and drowning on the other. Sometimes they were fortu- nate enough to find a hiding place behind great bowlders of stone or the bushy cedars that grew among the rocks. From these they fired at the foremost In- dians and so managed to keep the enemy at bay for a while. Often they had to catch hold of shrubs or cling to projections of the bluff to keep from falling into the Cumberland as they fought. At one time John Buchanan was doing great service with his gun from a sheltered nook where, as he thought, his head was screened by a shelving rock. From this secure position he picked off his enemies unseen. Several Indians had already dropped before his weapon and
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he was loading to fire again, not suspecting that a feathered head was at that moment being poked cau- tiously over the ledge above him; nor did he see the downward-pointed gun. But something impelled him to look up. He was just in time to save his own life by shooting the Indian who was reaching down to kill him.
And here was Manifee with blazing dark eyes, in hot chase after two redskins who bounded down the bank straight toward Buchanan's hiding place. Buch- anan's rifle stopped one of them, while Manifee fol- lowed the other and put him to death near the water's edge. The struggle went on in the same way all along the bluff. Yet fight as bravely as they would, the sit- uation "of the pioneer soldiers was growing more se- rious every minute. It seemed as if nothing could save them.
In this crisis the same brave little woman who had warned them of the danger was watching the battle from the "lookout" above the gate. There she stood, gun in hand, ready to help, should help be needed. Now was the time, if ever, to be of use. The scat- tered Indians were re-forming their broken line for a concerted attack on the whites. By force of numbers they would certainly either kill every white man or else push him into the river. Something must be done to call off the savages. Cæsar stood below, ready to do Mrs. Robertson's bidding. At a word from his mistress the boy loosed the bloodhounds, slightly opened the gates, and let the dogs slip through. With a loud, dismaying howl the pack bounded from the stockade. Snuffing the Indian-tainted air, they made for the red line that hemmed in the white men. They
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The Battle of the Bluffs.
rushed toward their prey, barking so furiously that the horses which had been tied to the trees at the begin- ning of the battle were frightened by the noise. Al- ready excited by the sounds of the fight, the horses now became panic-stricken, broke their fastenings, and started off in a stampede. You may remember that if there is one thing an Indian values above an- other it is horseflesh. The warriors had counted on capturing the good, fast horses of the pioneers; so when they saw their four-footed prizes about to get away they could hardly go on fighting, though the dogs were at their throats. Their roving glances turned now and again to keep watch on the horses, lest they escape altogether. One warrior in particular, near the center of the half moon, could not withhold his covetous eyes. It was not in his Indian nature to let such booty go. His feathered head had whirled for one more look. The horses seemed in the act of get- ting off. The temptation was too great. The warrior left his place and ran after the scampering beasts. His example was followed by others, and still others, until a wide gap was left in the line. The Indians who re- mained faithful to their post were too busy beating off the dogs to attend to their human enemies.
Manifee, quick to see the opportunity thus af- forded, called to his comrades: "Run for your lives ! Get to the fort while you may !" A rush for the gate, through the opening in the Indian ranks, followed. Several of the pioneers succeeded in getting in with- out a scratch. But the brave soldiers Captain Leiper, Alexander Buchanan, Peter Sill, George Kennedy, and Zachariah White were killed, and two or three others were wounded, among whom were James Manifee
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and Joseph Moonshaw. Another of the wounded was Isaac Lucas. He had nearly reached the fort (near where Church and Cherry Streets now cross) when a ball broke his leg and threw him to the ground in the path of his enemies. On the instant a scalping knife was flourished above his head, but the wounded man fired his gun, and by killing the Indian saved his own life. Lucas's danger did not end here, however. One warrior after another stood over him to kill him where he lay helpless. But the pioneers in the fort were zealously guarding the spot, and as often as a war- rior reached him the sharpshooters would bring him down with well-aimed fire through the portholes. In this way they kept Lucas safe until he could be reached and brought inside.
Still nearer death was Edward Swanson. His gun was gone, and an Indian who appeared to be about the size of Goliath was after him. At the moment when his empty hands were outstretched to touch the gate he had so nearly reached, the Indian overtook him. Pushing the muzzle of his gun into Swanson's side, he pulled the trigger. By good fortune the gun merely snapped. Quick as thought Swanson laid hold of the barrel (being a Samson in strength himself), twisted the lock to one side, and spilled out the priming from the pan. The Indian grunted in disgust as he jerked his weapon away and struck Swanson a blow with the butt end of it that brought him to the ground. The white man was completely at the mercy of the sav- age when John Buchanan came to the rescue with his gun, the same blunderbuss which afterwards saved the day in another fort. "Take that!" he cried, and fired, evidently wounding the Indian, who at once ran
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The Battle of the Bluffs.
off, leaving a trail of blood behind. "The rascal came near getting you," said Buchanan, as he helped Swan- son into the stockade.
The last of the living white men had been helped inside, and those who were still able to fight were at the portholes. They kept up such a hot fire from their sheltered position that the savages soon left, though not before they had captured the nineteen good horses, which they took with them when they finally dis- appeared.
After their enemies were well out of sight, the pioneers performed the sad duty of burying their dead ; then followed a renewed search for young Jonathan Robertson. The boy's mother, at the head of the searching party, was the first to notice a strange-look- ing object creeping, unable to walk, among the cedars. "I see him !" she cried. "I see him! It is my son, and he is alive !"
The savages had left the lad for dead on the hill, but he had in reality only fainted from the pain of being scalped. Becoming conscious again after a great while, he had tried to make his way back to the fort. It was while in the torture of this effort that he was found by his friends and tenderly carried home to be nursed back to health and strength by the good mother whose heroism had saved his life and kept the whole settlement from being destroyed.
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XII. THE SQUAW'S PROPHECY.
A BROAD flatboat, surmounted by a roughly made cabin, was being steered down the Tennessee River in the spring of 1788. The deck of the queer-looking craft was guarded by a close railing, which was pierced at intervals with portholes. A small swivel gun was mounted in the stern, and the crew who plied the oars and managed the rudder were stalwart, armed men.
Yet despite their warlike appearance the vessel was enlivened by the merry laughter of children, the low- ing of milch cows, the crowing of fowls, and other cheerful domestic sounds which indicated that it was, at least for the time being, the home of a family party. The owner of the house boat, Col. William Brown, of North Carolina, had fought under "Light Horse Har- ry" Lee in the Revolutionary struggle for independ- ence, and when the war was over his grateful State had rewarded him with the grant of a large tract of land situated in the unsettled country west of the Cumberland Mountains. In order to gain actual pos- session of the domain, he resolved to take the risk of moving with his family to his estate in the wilder- ness, choosing his route by way of the rivers. He embarked for the journey at Fort Patrick Henry on the 4th of May with his wife, two grown sons (James and John), and five younger children, together with
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The Squaw's Prophecy.
his servants and his cattle, and all his household goods. Besides his own family there were five young men, John and William Gentry, John Griffin, William Flood, and J. Bays, who had asked to be allowed to go along, as they wanted a chance to try their fortunes in the new West.
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